


knowing time betrays

by darkesky



Series: knowing time betrays [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Drug Use, Religion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:41:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 23,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23087944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkesky/pseuds/darkesky
Summary: While everyone struggled to truly define reincarnation, most people followed the same rules. Nobody ever regained full memory of their past lives, it came back in flashes (sometimes through dreams, sometimes through nightmares), and it held no bearing on their new, modern lives... And Edelgard defied every single one of those rules.-His parents promised he’d remember something in due time. While his mother swore it’d be okay if he turned out to be a new soul, his father made a face at the idea. After all, being a new soul meant nothing, and Claude wanted a past life.-He should leave well enough alone. Choosing to pursue a past life would be defying the goddess; the goddess granted him a brand new life to carve out happiness. That old life existed in the past, a past long lost to history. Dimitri never got any clear image of it in his head.---Being reborn doesn't mean all problems disappear.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic & Claude von Riegan, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Linhardt von Hevring, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Dorothea Arnault/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Flayn & Seteth (Fire Emblem), Hilda Valentine Goneril & Edelgard von Hresvelg, Marianne von Edmund & Petra Macneary, My Unit | Byleth & Leonie Pinelli, Sylvain Jose Gautier & Claude von Riegan
Series: knowing time betrays [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1722436
Comments: 67
Kudos: 97





	1. Flame Emperor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter which body she inhabited, Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg or Edelgard Hruby, she carried the weight of worlds on her shoulders. Was it her responsibility to come forward and tell everyone the truth behind the Unification? Was it her responsibility to tell her former classmates’ stories though most died detesting her? Should she even attempt to be herself when nobody needed to hear from a so-called ‘tyrant?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!!! so I don't know if this makes any sense, but I wanted to get it off my chest because I've been thinking about it for awhile. It's not necessarily good, but I'm excited about it anyway? Hopefully, though, it does interest you even a little bit. Reincarnation is probably one of my favorite things to play with, but I've never published anything with it.

While everyone struggled to truly define reincarnation, most people followed the same rules. Nobody ever regained full memory of their past lives, it came back in flashes (sometimes through dreams, sometimes through nightmares), and it held no bearing on their new, modern lives.

Edelgard defied every single one of those rules. 

From a shaky memory of taking her first steps, she got a dual image of the wooden floors and the marble floors. The first time she cut her hair on her own, five years old and scissors just a little too big for her hands, she stared at the brown locks when they hit the ground. Something in her ate her  _ (it should be white).  _ When she first started to attend school, she found herself searching for a familiar dark mage by her side; her parents still thought Hubert was her imaginary friend.

_ (“Edel.” Her father paused in the doorway. _

_ She looked up from her sketchbook. Back then, she never considered herself much of an artist. Yet, she no longer needed to plot some sort of revolution. She no longer fought against a lifespan threatening to swallow her whole. Sue her; she asked for drawing lessons. Otherwise, she feared she’d forget what her former friends looked like. _

_ Carefully, she closed the cover over Byleth’s knowing eyes. She always found herself gravitating back to her professor. “Yes, Father?” _

_ “You’re always so quiet… Did something happen at school?” He inspected her as if something would give on her face.  _

_ She smiled. “No, I’m just… Thinking.” _

_ “And who are you drawing…?” _

_ “Father,” she interrupted. On the spot, she invented her next lie. While Edelgard knew the chances of finding Hubert was next to none, she thought she might be able to find the others. “One of my friends started to take singing lessons. I was wondering if I could do the same.” _

_ It wasn’t quite a lie. If Dorothea was born with good fortune this time around, and she prayed for one of her dearest friends, she’d be taking singing lessons from the very get-go… Though she doubted Dorothea needed it.) _

All around her, people started to regain their memories from the past. Very few people came from  _ her  _ past though. Evidently, the Unification of Fodlan went neglected both by the history books and the Goddess. A lot of people spoke of the new banks, of the restructuring of society after the last Crest died off, of another war with Brigid. 

The closest she found was a girl gushing about meeting Claude von Riegan once upon a time, well past the time the history book said he went missing. She almost pulled her aside in that instant. Losing Claude and Dimitri remained one of the biggest regrets of her life; it might have been a necessary evil, but she still longed they could have been allies. Now, perhaps they still could be… As long as she found them. 

Sometimes, Edelgard wondered if they wanted to be found. She would never know a carefree life at this rate. No matter which body she inhabited, Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg or Edelgard Hruby, she carried the weight of worlds on her shoulders. Was it her responsibility to come forward and tell everyone the truth behind the Unification? Was it her responsibility to tell her former classmates’ stories though most died detesting her? Should she even attempt to be herself when nobody needed to hear from a so-called ‘tyrant?’

Right once she thought she made her decision, she found an unexpected ally. 

_ (She sat alone at lunch, her sketchbook lying in front of her. Tracing a finger over Petra’s cheekbone, she wondered what she’d say to her. If Petra hadn’t followed her into war, she might have lived longer. She might have gotten a happy ending. _

_ The losers of war didn’t get happy endings… Besides Bernadetta, somehow. A passing note in a textbook contained an excerpt from Ingrid Galatea’s journal of all people. She spoke measures of sparing the archer, losing her pegasus in order to satisfy her own guilt and the professor’s wishes. _

_ That textbook went into detail about the casualties of Gronder Field. Claude hadn’t been kidding when it was the worst class reunion.  _

_ “Mind if I sit here? Nobody will think to look for me here.” Without waiting for an answer, the girl collapsed on the opposite side of the table. Dumping her backpack onto the table, she swept out her own textbook and a pair of fake glasses. _

_ Edelgard snorted, but the laugh died on her lips. _

_ Hilda Goneril balanced the stocky black frames on her nose, her sharp eyes gleaming behind them. She twisted her pink hair into bun deftly, snapping her scrunchie around it. Then, she picked up her textbook with a lopsided grin. “I’ll be damned if I have to suffer through another mile in gym. I’ll sneak back in the last two minutes and pretend I’ve been there the whole time.” _

_ “H… Hilda?” she ventured. _

_ The girl paused. “Yeah. You in one of my classes? Oh, shoot, that’s my bad, I don’t really pay attention—” _

_ “No!” Edelgard cringed at how loud her voice grew. Judging by the unimpressed look Hilda gave her, Hilda didn’t appreciate the excitement. Trying to contain herself, Edelgard sought the best way to explain this.  _ Should  _ she explain this? “I’m… Edelgard.” _

_ “Edelgard, huh. What kind of parents do you have?” She snorted to herself. “Now, if you don’t mind, I gotta finish this before class. It’s due next block, and if I’m not done, Coach will have to bench me, and he’ll kick my ass.” _

_ “Coach? Do you play?” _

_ Hilda paused. “Yeah, I’m on the basketball team… How do you not know that? How did you know me again?” _

_ “Recognized you from the yearbook.” The lie slipped out easily. _

_ The other girl rolled her eyes. “Sure.”) _

Despite the… Rockiness of their first meeting, Hilda came back the next day. And the next. Apparently, skipping gym was an everyday occurrence. The two of them grew close through the rest of sophomore year, and Edelgard found herself painfully attached to Claude’s retainer. She didn’t like how dependent she felt on the other girl.

Then again, she’d almost say it was mutual. 

She hoped Hilda would never regain her memories because she remembered grinding her axe against the other girl’s chest, remembered the light leaving her eyes, remembered Claude’s pained cry from across the field. 

Then came the news of a new school rising from the ruins of an old one. The first time she heard the announcement, her heart leapt into her throat and she retreated to the bathroom. In the stall, her world fizzled out, and she shattered into a million different pieces. While there would be no way in  _ hell  _ she’d pick any other choice for herself, it didn’t mean she wanted to go down this route again. 

_ (“Tell me why you’re on my ass to fill out this application again.” Hilda chewed on her bottom lip, head cocked slightly. Even as she read it again, she ended up shaking her head. “This is for nerds like you, Edie. It’s a lot of work.” _

_ “I think it’s a good opportunity.” She fell straight back into their past argument. While she couldn’t come up with something more damning, Edelgard would forge this for Hilda if she didn’t do it herself.  _

_ Slouching back against her bed, Hilda gestured for her to sit back. As Edelgard settled in front of her, Hilda gathered the hair at her temple. Whenever they talked about anything vaguely serious, she ended up with a French braid or something along those lines. “Okay, but it sounds boring as hell.” _

_ “You’d get to meet new boys.” Hopefully Claude. If Hilda remembered any part of Claude, she’d leap at this chance. Considering just how much she put into the war, she cared for her old home. Now, though, any notion of nobility and the three territories of Fodlan faded away. _

_ She shrugged. “So? There are cute boys at this school.” _

_ “They’ll be smart and cute.” Edelgard waited for Hilda to tie on the ribbon before flipping around, grabbing Hilda’s hands. The other girl raised an eyebrow. “If you get into this school, and you will, I will do all of your work for you.” _

_ “Are… What?” With a laugh, Hilda reached for the application. “Okay, I’m sold.”  _

_ “Just like that?” _

_ “Well, that, and I couldn’t abandon my best girl.” She blew Edelgard a kiss before starting to write on the application. “Goddess, does that mean we’re going to be the first class in Garreg Mach for, like, three centuries?” _

_ “Someone has to be there when they reopened Garreg Mach.” Edelgard grinned to herself.) _

And the same week the applications were sent back, the staff of Garreg Mach came out with a new discovery.

They found a way to suppress memories of past lives.

She read the article in the newspaper, again and again, trying to make sense of it. The staff claimed to be from the original Garreg Mach, claimed to be the original Lady Rhea and Seteth. The two of them understood the pain of remembering a life which didn’t truly belong to them. The two of them understood how concerning it was when your teenager suddenly claimed you weren’t their true parents. The Goddess made it clear each life was a new chance, a fresh start… So why would people revert to their roots?

It was wrong. Surely,  _ surely,  _ remembering the past was a good thing. Surely reincarnation meant something. Edelgard couldn’t imagine giving up all free will to… To… To a  _ pill developed by Rhea.  _ Goddess above, how did she get reincarnated in the same lifeline as that treacherous snake?

And sitting on top of her countertop was the acceptance message to Garreg Mach. She’d be the first junior class there alongside Hilda. Just like before, history started to repeat itself. 

This time, though, she’d be the victor. She couldn’t let Rhea win again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the general plan is that all of the students will get one of these quick chapters to explain where they are in THEIR lives. right now, I think i'll go through all the house leaders and then get the retainers (so I promise you'll get to see Hilda's POV. I love Hilda soooo much)


	2. King of Unification

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a new soul meant nothing; Claude wanted a past life.
> 
> But… After scouring any textbook he could find, all sources gave a tentative truth. Most people started to remember, in snippets, during adolescence. To have nothing beyond that indicated a new soul. Considering Claude turned sixteen last week with no memories, the conclusion was starting to become inevitable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was NOT expecting such positive reactions with literally one day and one chapter up, but I'm so happy people are enjoying this!!! Thank you guys so much for reading! <3

His parents promised he’d remember something in due time. While his mother swore it’d be okay if he turned out to be a new soul, his father made a face at the idea.

While relatively uncommon, new souls still existed. The media handled them in a variety of different ways. Sometimes, they heralded them as the purest people, people without any bias coming to bring change to the world. Other times, they pitied them for never being able to connect with life in that strange, intimate way reincarnations could.

At the end of the day, society didn’t know how to deal with reincarnation, but everyone  _ wanted  _ to be reincarnated. A registry went up, a few years back, to officially confirm your return. He watched as world leaders chose to battle in politics or pick an easier life, celebrities step straight back into the spotlight or retreat, and other people with little fame clamoring for attention. Being a new soul meant  _ nothing. _

Claude wanted a past life.

But… After scouring any textbook he could find, all sources gave a tentative truth. Most people started to remember, in snippets, during adolescence. To have nothing  _ beyond  _ that indicated a new soul. Considering Claude turned sixteen last week with no memories, the conclusion was starting to become inevitable.

Still, he possessed some strange habits.

_ (“Claude! Wait up!” His little brother tore after him, panting with each heavy footstep. The weeds caught his boots, and he almost pitched forward. _

_ Absently, Claude turned to catch him. “You gotta watch your step, squirt.” _

_ “I’m not a squirt!” Shoving Claude back, Cyril backpedaled and crossed his arms. When he started to pout, Claude resisted the urge to laugh; he  _ really  _ couldn’t help his case. “‘Sides, we don’t got time for you to make fun of me. We gotta get this stuff for Momma and then head on back.” _

_ “There’s always time to make fun of you.” He paused before a tree, running his fingers over the bark. Something nagged at him as he studied the length. The leaves, the bark, the roots… Something about it screamed it was important _ .  _ “Hey… What’s the name of this tree?” _

_ “Why should I know? It doesn’t matter.” Cyril rolled his eyes and started to stomp through the forest. _

_ Claude hummed and refused to follow after him. A wry smile knit its way on his face, and he started to tear off several strips. “That’s rude. The tree only has nice things to say about you.” _

_ “What are you doing?” Pausing, Cyril spun on his heel and hefted his axe over his shoulder. He kept gesturing towards the treeline again and again. “Momma wants us to collect firewood!” _

_ “I  _ am  _ collecting wood. ‘Sides, cutting down trees is mean. Don’t you know those trees have families?” Finally satisfied with how much bark he had, he grinned and grabbed Cyril. His brother yelped as he fell into his hug. “What would you think if I got cut down in front of you, huh?” _

_ “I’d actually get my work done,” Cyril grumbled. _

_ He flicked the curl sitting on his brother’s forehead. “I think you’d be too busy crying over me.” _

_ Then, he shoved the bark into his bag and followed Cyril deeper into the forest. Their mom always insisted on an authentic Garreg Mach Establishment Day, complete with a fireplace burning wood. Of course, he didn’t understand any celebration of the holiday. Garreg Mach died in the war for unification (a subject with next to no primary sources minus sparse mentions of diaries from various soldiers in textbooks. He sought out any speeches, tactic plans, anything from the Alliance leader, the disgraced king, the emperor… He found nothing). _

_ When they got back home, his mom stared at the bark before stashing it with their supplies. It created the antitoxin, and while they rarely needed anything, backups were always good.) _

His curiosity about reincarnation fizzled out when his family fell on hard times. On a business trip to Alymra, his father never returned, leaving his mother to fend for the three of them. Without enough money coming from the single income, Claude picked up the slack in the family. He sought out the best paying job and plastered on his best personality; Goddess knew he knew how to trick people.

He ended up getting a job at a little tea shop near the ruins of Garreg Mach. They sold every variety, mostly to the rich, and they housed an area where people could sit down and drink. The owner imported tea from the west and the east. Once, Claude suggested they started to sell coffee, and they almost fired him on the spot. 

From that tea store, Claude started to carve a new path in life. He no longer had time to scour the library for any random subject which caught his eye. So, he spent time getting to know the people around. Even the little details they offered about their lives, he felt as if he got a glimpse at the real world. No book truly conveyed the crushing weight of making ends meet, even if it said it truthfully depicted poverty.

_ (“Hello and welcome to Tea for Two! What can I get for you today?” Claude offered his most charming. Somewhere in the back, he heard Annette snickering. She always loved him working upfront… She claimed his voice pitched a little too high to be believable as if he wanted to get away with something. _

_ The pair in front of him both startled at the sound of his voice. The girl dropped her phone and scrambled for it desperately while the man tried to school his expression into something normal. At the commotion, Annette peeked upfront, and that same strange expression fell across his face. “I… What was that?” _

_ “What can I get for you today?” he repeated with the same smile. _

_ Annette bounced forward, only somewhat stumbling when her foot knocked across the stool next to the register. Still, he caught her to keep her from falling, and she flashed him a grateful smile. “Sorry about that! Is Claude bothering you?” _

_ “Of course not!” The girl got to her feet and dusted herself off. She winced after noting her phone’s cracked screen before shoving it into her skirt. “Have either of you considered the school that is Garreg Mach?” _

_ “Flayn! Do not rudely interrupt our… Er, tea providers like that.” The man tripped over his words. His eyes flicked to Claude’s face immediately to see if he caught the slipup. Claude chose not to react because watching this train wreck was more entertaining than actually acknowledging it was a train wreck. _

_ Annette laughed. “Garreg Mach? Oh, I’d love to attend its reopening, but it’s a little prestigious!”  _

_ Read: Annette might be getting the grades, but she certainly didn’t have the money to attend. Claude found himself in the same boat… That, and he couldn’t imagine leaving Cyril alone. While he loved his mother, at times she certainly was distant… Especially after the disappearance of his father. _

_ “There are scholarships!” Flayn hurried to say. She spoke with a strange cadence, but she stared at both of them hopefully. If Claude watched this from an outside perspective, he’d guess Flayn was best friends with the two of them. In all honesty, she looked about Cyril’s age which meant way too young to really be friends with.  _

_ Ew, middle schoolers. _

_ Seteth nodded. “Perhaps I will leave the information behind.”) _

After prodding from everyone he knew, he submitted an application with Annette. The two of them promised they’d open the letters together when they were returned, but after his mom handed it to him, he climbed to the highest part of his house… The roof.

Sometimes, he thought maybe his tendency to go up high stemmed from his past life. Then again, everyone had quirks. Just because he liked the wind buffeting his hair and the feeling of the ground being so far below didn’t mean he rode a wyvern or anything in the past. He was grasping at straws there. 

He knew how to open a letter as if the envelope never got touched; he first figured that one out with report cards. While Claude always got good grades, every once and a while, a teacher suggested his joking behavior interrupted class. He threw those letters away, resealed the envelope, and he gave up the report card as if he knew nothing about their contents.

He was a good enough actor to pretend he didn’t know if he was going to Garreg Mach.

But then, Claude found himself staring at a full ride to Garreg Mach for his last two years of high school. The letter read simple enough; due to his grades, due to his behavior, due to his charm in the interview, they couldn’t think of a more suitable candidate going to Garreg Mach.

His mom already made it clear he’d have to keep his job at Tea for Two and pay for his own needs when the school couldn’t provide. Cyril already made it clear he needed to visit two weekends a month. 

But Claude would be going to Garreg Mach. Maybe there… Maybe he’d find some answers there!

_ (He wondered if the old Crest analyser could be repurposed into something which sensed reincarnation…) _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While this is kinda writing itself right now, I can't promise an update every day haha. I just really wanted to write Claude's part of this story because it's FUN. The next one is going to be Dimitri, and true to the game, it's probably going to be a lot angstier than Claude. 
> 
> (also, I thought it'd be hilarious if the all knowing Claude was the one who didn't remember ANYTHING about his past life.)


	3. Savior King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One life existed in the past, a past long lost to history. Dimitri never got any clear image of it in his head. Instead, he got a bitter taste haunting him. It started wet and coppery before dissolving to ashes. He woke up, choking on it, and he fell asleep, gagging on it.
> 
> With every faint memory of that life, he started to suspect he wasn’t a good person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the bit of a break, but life's been a little bit hectic right now... I'm sure you're all feeling that right now, haha.
> 
> Anyway, so this is definitely the DARKEST chapter so heads up for bad parenting, like INCREDIBLY bad parenting, and drug abuse.

When it came to adoption, everyone favored new souls. Old souls carried a certain level of uncertainty. The first few orphans who registered were past serial killers and war criminals and torturers. Then, someone invented the theory children in the foster care system only ended up like that as punishment for a past life. 

Some people didn’t place any merit in that theory, but others believed it. The whole subject of reincarnation warranted further exploration. Why did some people remember every detail of their past lives and others only tidbits? Could someone force memories onto themselves? At some point, would everyone become an old soul rather than a new soul? 

His mother considered it bogus. She advocated for children no matter the circumstances, and she insisted nobody could be judged on a past life. That was why she told him not to go seeking out the truth behind  _ his  _ birth. He should leave well enough alone in the same way she begged him to leave his past life in the past. She said choosing to pursue a past life would be defying the goddess; the goddess granted him a brand new life to carve out happiness.

She believed he got three chances at life from the goddess.

One life existed in the past, a past long lost to history. Dimitri never got any clear image of it in his head. Instead, he got a bitter taste haunting him. It started wet and coppery before dissolving to ashes. He woke up, choking on it, and he fell asleep, gagging on it.

With every faint memory of that life, he started to suspect he wasn’t a good person. Maybe the theory wasn’t completely off-base. Maybe he was being punished for whatever past crimes he committed.

_ (“You’re making a face,” noted Linhardt, barely lifting his head from his prep book. The two of them waited after school in the library for one of their parents to pick them up, but with state testing on the horizon, Dimitri spent all of his time practicing. He needed to prove he was worth something, needed to prove he deserved his second chance at life. _

_ Dimitri froze before attempting a smile. The taste filled his mouth from cheek to cheek, and it felt fluid. If he opened his mouth to speak, all the blood, all the ashes might come tumbling out. He knew it was irrational, he knew it was some kind of hallucination, but he couldn’t bring himself to try. _

_ Linhardt furrowed his brow. “Are you remembering something?” _

_ He shook his head, but now, Linhardt’s interest was piqued. Pushing the prep book away, he leant forward and made a gesture with his hand.  _

_ Dimitri opened his mouth, but nothing came out. _

_ “I’ve never seen, or heard of, anyone having such bad reactions to flashbacks,” Linhardt hummed. _

_ He tried for a light tone, a laugh. “Not all of us can get flashbacks every time we sleep.” _

_ The tone failed. _

_ “Sometimes, I wonder if my own reaction is unique. I think it may be linked to my past life because I certainly remember a great number of naps.” He grinned to himself before pausing. “But, full confession here, I have never gotten anything other than an image and some sort of audio. A taste? We should look into this more.” _

_ When Linhardt got to his feet, Dimitri gestured at the laptop still open on the desk. “Should we search for it?” _

_ “I don’t trust the internet, and you’re incredibly bad at using it,” Linhardt said without a trace of a joke in his voice. “I’d rather find a book with the information than type it into a search bar.”) _

He painted his next life in black ink. From the moment he was born, something in Dimitri screamed out at the world. He wasn’t right. When he looked into his reflection, regret swam there, and it multiplied when he couldn’t remember  _ what  _ he regretted. Maybe that regret was the reason his mother dreaded looking at him.

On the day he was born, his mother bundled him up in a ratty blanket and shoved him into a cardboard box. The firefighters found him on the step with only that blanket, a note with his first name on it, and a stuffed blue lion… While he doesn’t remember naming the lion, he always knew it as Felix.

His mom took a cue from the universe before everyone else; keeping Dimitri around was a curse. Bad luck followed him around like the plague. As a child, he broke things without understanding why. Once touch left it crumbling into ruin when he just sought to pick it up; no other child dealt with the same problem… And nobody believed he did it by accident because nobody could be that strong without trying.

At age ten, he almost found a forever home with a kind family. Yet, while he bonded with their first child—a shrimpy tomboy named Leonie—she always wanted to play rough, and he never knew how to say no. When he accidentally broke her arm, they sent him away without another word.

At that point, he had a black mark on his record, and that’s when they sent him to Cornelia.

_ (“Be careful,” Dimitri chanted to himself as he fled into the alleyway. The bottom of his sneakers wore off long ago, and he scratched his feet hard enough to bleed out over the sidewalk. His backpack threatened to fall off with every footstep; one of the straps fell off long ago, and he didn’t know how to sew it back together. _

_ Then again, he kept very few possessions. Losing the backpack wouldn’t be the end of the world. He packed any article of clothing from the school’s lost and found—someone’s track and field sweatshirt, which he always wanted to join to try out a javelin toss, and someone else’s gardening club t-shirt with sweatpants, which gave him a vague sense of remembrance but he only succeeded at growing weeds—and he hit the road. _

_ And, of course, his collection of childhood toys gathered at the bottom of the bag. He eventually gave Felix the blue lion friends in the form of a yellow horse named Ingrid and a red dog named Sylvain. He got both from his time with that family, and Sylvain came  _ straight  _ from Leonie. _

_ He wondered how she was doing. A broken arm would slow down all of her activities. _

_ Taking a deep breath, he dusted himself off and peeked out behind the dumpster. In the alleyways, he kept getting glimpses of that car his foster mom drove. She was trying to find him, but he doubted she’d call social services. Out of all the families he stayed with, she treated him the strangest. When she first figured out he had flashes of a past life, she started to double down and draw them out any way possible. _

_ Today, she tried to stab him since he mentioned the taste of blood. She thought he might be a soldier in a simpler time, before tanks and reanimated golems and guns, and the knife was the closest she could get. _

_ He also caught she bought an axe online. _

_ Right as the car passed, someone grabbed his arm. He flinched away hard enough to bang his head on the back of the dumpster. Dimitri whirled around and tried to back away. He couldn’t go back, he could never go back to Cornelia, but he didn’t want to condemn her. He just— _

_ “It is alright, little one.” The woman backed up and held her hands up in surrender. When he didn’t budge besides seeking out an escape, her gaze softened. “You look cold. Surely you want to come inside and tell me your troubles.” _

_ “I’m sorry,” Dimitri stammered out, “but I cannot.” _

_ She shook her head. “I insist. My name is Rhea.”) _

And thus began his new life. Rhea adopted him quickly, and he went from being the burden of a family to the prized child of another. She left him wanting for nothing. He joined the track and field team and finally honed his ability of javelin throwing, and he started fencing in his free time. Even his need for a family got satisfied with his uncle Seteth and cousin Flayn. 

Every once and awhile, he suspected they were keeping something from him. 

He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised when the two of them came out as the archbishops of the past. He shouldn’t have been surprised when they gained the right to reopen Garreg Mach. And he shouldn’t have been surprised…

_ (“Are you sure it’s safe?” he whispered to Rhea. _

_ His mother paused before pushing the pill bottle at him again. “Trust me, Dimitri. This will keep any memories from coming back. There’s no way to induce flashbacks, no way to recreate an old life… But we finally found a way to start life anew. Through this, you can be unburdened by the pains of that past life you only half remember.” _

_ “But… Is it safe?” he asked again, kicking his feet. He never felt so small before. He… _

_ She nodded. “The Goddess will protect both of us, Dimitri. Have faith in Her.” _

_ “I…” Without another word, he shook out two pills and swallowed them down dry. _

_ Something cold spread across his body, settling in the front of his mind. It started to build until all he could see was the fog. He gasped out and dug his fingers into the table. Someone murmured something soothing to him.  _

_ For a second, he thought he saw the outline of a green-haired woman. _

_ Then, the fog overtook him, and something inside him died. _

_ “How do you feel?” Rhea asked softly. _

_ He blinked. “Good.”) _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND now the three house leaders are done! The next up are the three retainers, but I don't really have a preference about which one to write up... If you guys want to see anyone first, just comment below!


	4. Emperor's Confidant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert refused to believe in the notion of soulmates. Once he traveled down the rabbit hole of reincarnation, he found other various theories. The most ridiculous revolved around soulmates; the idea two people were two halves of each other disgusted him. Considering how rarely people married for love (because marriage, ultimately, was economic or political but rarely romantic), nobody could belong with each other.
> 
> And besides, Hubert spent most of his time alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To think Hubert's chapter was MEANT to explain magic in this day and age and instead he introduced the topic/theory of 'soulmates'... Oh well.

Hubert  _ refused  _ to believe in the notion of soulmates. Once he traveled down the rabbit hole of reincarnation, he found other various theories. The most ridiculous revolved around soulmates; the idea two people were  _ two halves of each other  _ disgusted him. Considering how rarely people married for love (because marriage, ultimately, was economic or political but rarely romantic), nobody could  _ belong  _ with each other.

Reincarnation, though, he could buy.

His first memories, like all horrible things, surfaced in middle school. While he watched his classmates stumble over themselves and ask each other to the school dance, he resisted the urge to gag. None of them would last the month; surely they realized this whole interaction was useless.

Hubert spent most of his time alone. When all of them ran off to the school dance to giggle and fawn over each other in a sweat-stained gym, he stayed in the confines of his room, researching nothing and everything.

Until something tugged at him, and Hubert closed his eyes to refocus, and the memory hit him full-force.

_ (“Must you make everything so dramatic?” the Hubert of the past growled. He strode several paces ahead of a redhead who kept stride but never attempted to close the distance. He watched the memory slack-jawed and stunned as if he watched a movie unfold in front of him; he was  _ watching  _ something he once lived. _

_ The redhead scowled. “Must you make everything so flippant? Surely, not even someone such as you—” _

_ “Someone such as me?” Hubert whirled around. Magic sparked to life between his fingers, and the redhead flinched back. Something settled in the air between them as the magic started to die. Hubert could tell his past self almost apologized,  _ wanted  _ to apologize, but apologizing was for the weak. If the redhead chose to be afraid of him, so be it. Any regret could be resolved easily enough. _

_ Steeling himself, the other boy nodded. “Someone such as you. You sincerely believe you are not driving us towards war? What were you doing with Monica this evening? She was a sweet girl—” _

_ “Was? Are you implying I corrupted her somehow?” Hubert snorted. “Perhaps you ought to take a step back, Ferdinand. I’d hate for you to get corrupted as well.” _

_ ‘Ferdinand,’ Hubert of the present mouthed to himself. Somehow, the name carried more weight than anything else he ever tried to say. When he did the same with Monica, it felt… Inconsequential. While she may have caused this argument, he must not have considered Monica very important.  _

_ Surprisingly, Ferdinand did take a step back. “I hope you know what you are playing with, Hubert. Even if I am to believe Monica, the distressed girl not yet recovered, wants to engage in whatever sinister scheme you plan, I doubt we can handle a war.” _

_ “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” Hubert rolled his eyes. “But what Lady Edelgard wants, she shall get.” _

_ “And if Edelgard wants to bring the world to her knees?” Ferdinand’s hands twitched into fists, but he took a deep breath to steel himself once more. _

_ He nodded. “Even then.”) _

He never heard of flashbacks coming like that… As if he was only an outside party to his former life. He thought they felt like his current memories, hazy and distant but remarkably his own. This, though… This felt  _ tangible. _

And this felt like  _ answers. _

It didn’t take long to find the records of a Hubert, Ferdinand, and Edelgard in one place. All names were uncommon enough nobody repeated the names… And certainly, nobody repeated Edelgard after all the atrocious crimes got filed underneath her.

Yet, despite the fact he  _ knew  _ his past self worked closely with Edelgard, the name inspired no emotion… Not in the way saying Ferdinand felt like taking a beam directly from the sun. And the internet only yielded so many answers. He knew ‘Hubert von Vestra’ was considered to be her best tactician and often commanded troops on behalf of Emperor Edelgard. He knew ‘Hubert von Vestra’ died in the same city on the same day as Edelgard. Yet, nobody had any primary sources from either of them. 

Researching Ferdinand von Aegir gave even less. He died several months ahead of Hubert, and reading that fact felt like an ice bucket dumped over his head. He was a general and about to become prime minister in a system where it passed through the blood… And that was  _ it. _

_ (“Ferdinand von Aegir?” His father sat in front of the computer. Hubert cringed at the mispronunciation of the last name. Considering how many fragments he started to get on a battlefield, where Ferdinand victoriously proclaimed his name, he’d be disgusted to hear his legacy reduced to clumsy syllables.  _

_ Hubert hummed. “I must have forgotten to clear my search history.” _

_ “Why were you researching this?” His father turned around. Something twisted clawed at his features. “This better not have anything to do with reincarnation.” _

_ “And if it did?”  _

_ He laughed. “Then you wouldn’t be allowed to stay in this house. I won’t have any of that ‘old soul’ nonsense here.” _

_ Hubert considered blurting it out, right then and there. He knew his father’s campaign on the registry; he knew his father would demolish it given the chance. He truly did not believe reincarnation should give any advantage in this life. Hubert doesn’t know what he had against Twitter verification and popular Youtube channels, but he didn’t voice that opinion around his father. Otherwise, the streets may hold a home for him, and he’d prefer being silent and aloof in his room than forced into solitude. _

_ “It’s for class,” he opted to say. _

_ His father nodded, taking the easy out. “Good… Though I can’t imagine what class would teach about this pansy.” _

_ “Pansy?” _

_ “What self-respecting man would grow out his hair like that if he  _ wanted  _ to be at war? He’s asking to be killed… Hey, you did the research. How’d his life end?” A cruel smile settled on his face as he gestured at the portrait of Ferdinand still pulled up. _

_ He hadn’t wanted to grow out his hair. The fact sprung to his tongue immediately, but he swallowed it down. “He died in battle. They say it was a glorious death—” _

_ “But his side lost, didn’t it?” Suddenly, Hubert realized his father already read up on this particular incident. He should have known… All history classes studied it to some extent, but Ferdinand von Aegir often became a cliff note. “Not shocked. Wasn’t it led by that one bitch… What was her name…? She never stood a chance of being a strong leader.” _

_ “They were winning the war for—” _

_ “Getting defensive of historical figures here, Hubie. Why is that?” His father closed the browser on Ferdinand’s smiling face. _

_ Hubert gritted his teeth. “No reason at all, Father.”) _

Hubert took the first opportunity to get out of the house. His relationship with his father only grew more and more strained as his father gained more political ground. Soon, his father led an activist group whose sole purpose was to oppose old souls… And they were talking about getting him on the ballot.

Considering his father’s tendencies of belittling any sign of feminity, his father would become a hot topic soon… One Hubert didn’t have the patience to deal with.

When he first read of Garreg Mach reopening, he didn’t hesitate in applying. Besides, no institution could ever reject Hubert. He was the ideal candidate after all; he grew up in wealth, he got spectacular grades, and all of his teachers had nothing but glowing reviews if not the odd comment on how anti-social he was. 

Besides, perhaps Garreg Mach would open new doors for him. Perhaps he’d find Edelgard and find insight on his past life. Or perhaps he’d find Ferdinand and find why all of his memories had Ferdinand and Ferdinand alone in them. He never bore witness to anyone else, but he felt as if he could detail every moment of the redhead’s life… Except his death. While he had a vivid memory of receiving a letter from a soldier who narrowly escaped the field, Hubert carried the suspicion Ferdinand ultimately died alone.

_ (“Is this worth it?” Ferdinand pondered. _

_ Hubert saw himself appear in the doorway, still obscured by shadows. One eye pierced out and settled on Ferdinand before softening. “Having second doubts, Prime Minister?” _

_ “That title still belongs to my father,” he started. _

_ Hubert shook his head. “It won’t for much longer.” _

_ “I just… Emperor Edelgard is not the woman I once knew.” He pushed to his feet and ran a nervous hand through his hair, sending it every which way. “I wonder if I am still willing to die for her.” _

_ “And if you’re not? Will you defect and force us to hunt you down like a dog?” _

_ Ferdinand paused, cocking his head. “Would you truly? Hunt me down like that?” _

_ “Without hesitation. I will not tolerate traitors.” _

_ Something in the air bubbled again, shifting and skewing the perspective. Ferdinand squared his shoulders and pushed past him. “Then do not be worried, von Vestra. I have no intention of ruining your emperor’s war efforts—” _

_ “Ferdinand, please.” Hubert caught his wrist. _

_ Ferdinand twisted away. “I do not like being second place to Edelgard. And I certainly do not like your blind devotion to her. Sometimes, I wonder if you would have been a better man without knowing her.” _

_ “I can’t imagine a world without knowing her.” _

_ “I know.” Ferdinand sniffed, unimpressed. “I will see you soon. I have to go defend the bridge.”) _

Somehow, Hubert knew, as he pulled himself out of the memory, he never saw Ferdinand again. His last words sat heavy in his mind… Now, Hubert had lived a life without Edelgard. Was he a better man than he was before? Was he a… Corrupt man before? Corrupt like his father, wielding political power to further humiliate those without voices? Like his father, who shamed Hubert for showing any affinity towards men? Was he… Like his father back then?

Perhaps, meeting Ferdinand and avoiding Edelgard at the new institution should either of them attend would be the better strategy… At least until he could re-evaluate. __

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand good luck to Edelgard finding ANY ally in this new world since all of the Blue Lions/Golden Deer hate her, and her closest friends in the Black Eagles... haha


	5. Free Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘We lost the war before it even started.’  
> Somewhere, encased in the phrase, Hilda kept her past life carefully bundled away. After all, she liked her new life. She might not have had much, but she had the only thing which really mattered—love. Her brother doted on her, and she wouldn’t need to work a day in her life if he continued to rise ranks like that. Who didn’t like Holst? He came with an easy smile and a charming personality, and while she was just as charming and diplomatic, she gave significantly less fucks about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Dedue's SHOULD be up tomorrow!!! After that, it's totally up to you! You guys suggest ANY of the Blue Lions, Black Eagles, Golden Deer, and I'll start writing them up!

_ ‘We lost the war before it even started.’ _

Somewhere, encased in the phrase, Hilda kept her past life carefully bundled away. She only remembered a little. She remembered a violent death, she remembered someone who made her fall head over heels… And she remembered being in pain. Why would she  _ want  _ to remember any of that?

Besides, Hilda  _ liked  _ her new life. She might not have had much, but she had the only thing which really  _ mattered— _ love. Her brother doted on her, and she wouldn’t need to work a day in her life if he continued to rise ranks like that. Who  _ didn’t  _ like Holst? He came with an easy smile and a charming personality, and while she was just as charming and diplomatic, she gave significantly less fucks about it.

She doesn’t remember her parents, but she doesn’t need them. In the same way she never thought about her past life, she never thought about them. Between the two siblings, they did every stereotypical ‘family event’ possible. They played board games on the weekends  _ (which usually ended with Holst flipping the board and Hilda cackling)  _ and sat down around the table for meals  _ (with the TV playing in the background so they both could laugh over sitcoms).  _ They  _ made  _ a traditional family, just with two fewer people.

The only time they ever  _ truly  _ fought was over past lives. Holst bought into psychics and tarot card readers; she didn’t. When he noticed her scribbling that phrase down on everything since the age of  _ two,  _ he asked her what it meant. She refused to look into it. When he pulled up details about some  _ Almyran king,  _ she deleted the search history of the laptop and changed the password. 

She didn’t  _ care. _

_ (“C’mon, Hilda!” Holst reached out and grabbed her hips. As he started to swing her around and lift her into the air, she screeched and pounded her fists against his shoulders. He ignored it until he tossed her onto the couch. When she landed, she scrambled and grabbed a pillow, lodging it against his chest. “I made you an appointment and everything! What am I supposed to do? Tell her I was  _ lying?”

_ “Yes! That’s exactly what I want you to do!” When she started to get up, he slid in front of the couch to block her path. She blinked once, twice. Then, she launched herself from the couch and tackled his middle.  _

_ As he tripped over himself, the two of them landed on the rug and kept wrestling. Eventually, she slid on top of him and grinned victoriously. He scowled. “When did you get so big?” _

_ “I really didn’t. I’m the shortest one in my grade.” As she sat on his chest, she leaned forward and fluttered her eyelashes. “I’m  _ also  _ the weakest, and I need the most help getting anything done.” _

_ “That’s bullshit—” _

_ “That’s the point.” She winked.  _

_ Then, he managed to throw her off. “You’re  _ insanely  _ good at grappling, Hilds. And remember that one time you came axe-throwing with me and my bud, Christophe? You can’t tell me there  _ isn’t  _ anything suspicious about that! Maybe you were a soldier in a past life.” _

_ “Gross!” She held out her hands. “Do you see how nice I got my nails to look today? I couldn’t work an axe quite like that if I wanted to keep getting manicures!” _

_ “Maybe you lived in a time before manicures?” Holst waggled his eyebrows. “You’d know if you checked out my psychic with me!” _

_ “I don’t even believe in psychics! That kind of magic is kinda hokey, bro.” _

_ “We live in a world with actual magic, but  _ that’s  _ going too far for you?” He snorted. _

_ She shrugged. “Yep!”) _

Neither of them was going to let  _ that  _ go, so both of them started ignoring the topic like the plague. Besides, Holst’s job suddenly got a lot busier. With his work with security cameras, some  _ mystery client  _ recruited him to help with their newest project. Every time Holst returned, he returned with a broad smile.

Then, he started to talk up this other  _ school.  _ The mystery client gave him just enough permission to start bullying Hilda into doing  _ more work.  _ She enjoyed her current high school. People liked her, and the teachers weren’t the brightest around. When she started daydreaming, if she made up some sob story, they always let her out of it. 

In fact, if she hadn’t spent all of her time skipping gym, she wouldn’t have met her best friend… Who, unfortunately, when the news came out about Garreg Mach, jumped on board instantly.

_ (“You are  _ so lame,  _ Edie!” Hilda plopped down in the seat next to her.  _

_ The other girl startled. Right before she knocked her water bottle straight into the textbook, she plucked it up and placed it down beside her. Then, she straddled a chair and offered her most endearing smile. “Whatcha reading? We don’t even have any tests coming up!” _

_ “It’s nothing—hey! What are you doing?” Her cheeks grew red as she slid the book away from Edelgard.  _

_ She read one line before pausing. Before she fully glanced up, she looked out of the corner of her eye to see Edelgard gauging her expression. Hilda feigned boredom, noted the page number, and slammed it shut. “Boring! I bet you don’t even have a test over it. I bet you’re just trying to get brownie points with a teacher!” _

_ “I am not… It’s interesting! It’s one of the leading texts about the Unification of Fodlan!” Edelgard stole it back. “It even had a quote from that soldier… Ingrid Galatea? She later became the Queen—” _

_ “Blah, blah, blah!” Hilda rolled her eyes. “Why would I care about people who are long dead? C’mon, let’s go somewhere fun!” _

_ “And where is this ‘fun place?’” Edelgard asked, somewhat bemused. _

_ She shrugged. “We could, uh… That one tea place!  _ Tea for Two? _ I’ve never been there, but one of my other friends said the person working there is  _ hot.”

_ “Isn’t it about an hour and a half drive? That seems widely unnecessary. Surely there’s somewhere nearby.” Finally, Edelgard gave up the textbook and fished out her phone instead. She started typing away, trying to find someplace. _

_ Hilda shouldn’t. That meant Holst was right, and she did give a fuck, and she spent so long trying to maintain a careful image she couldn’t care less about her past life. But that quote… Goddess, Edelgard being a nerd actually was going to kill her.  _

_ If she took the textbook now, Edelgard would know though. If she went to a bookstore though…) _

Holst couldn’t believe Hilda applied for a job at the same time she applied to Garreg Mach. If she explained it, he would laugh in her face… But she didn’t have a  _ choice.  _ She made up some excuse about needing to fund her lavish lifestyle, and he bought it hook, line, and sinker. 

Near Garreg Mach, Hilda would be a somewhat proud, mostly bored employee of  _ Tomes of Wisdom,  _ one of the lamest bookstores around. It would, on the other hand, carry a copy of the book. She couldn’t bring it home on the off chance Holst found it and started connecting dots. And she couldn’t bring it to school because Edelgard would expect her to start trying  _ so much harder. _

At least at  _ Tomes of Wisdom,  _ she’d get paid, but she could still convince her coworker to do  _ all  _ of her responsibilities.

_ (“Hilda! Are you… Reading on the job?” Sylvain gasped as he neared her.  _

_ She laughed and waved a hand flippantly. “You said you’d cover the front desk for me, Sylvie. ‘Sides, maybe your  _ girlfriend  _ will come by to flirt with you in front of everyone.” _

_ “Goddess, I hope so. I haven’t spent enough time with her lately.” He plopped down next to her and started reading over her shoulder. In a pointedly stuffy voice, he started to read aloud. Ironically, he picked the very spot she kept reading.  _ “‘We lost the war before it even started—’”

_ “Shut up!” She swatted at him.  _

_ He squinted. “Apparently, it was found engraved on the wall in the ‘Riegan’ residence… Are you reading about architecture?” _

_ “Maybe it’s a passion of mine,” she sniffed.  _

_ Sylvain slung an arm around her shoulders. When she laughed and squirmed away, he got to his feet and started to saunter away. “Fine, fine, I’m leaving you alone with your book about the Leicester Alliance architecture! And I’ll see you at school tomorrow… You  _ are  _ going to orientation, right?” _

_ “Not if you’re going,” she grinned. _

_ He pressed a hand over his chest and staggered back. “Ouch!”) _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hilda definitely picked the most CONVOLUTED plan to get at that book, but she needed to read the quote. Also, while she didn't mention it, she definitely gets serious bad vibes from Edelgard thinking she needed to read that book... Which is another reason she picked the most difficult path to get at it.


	6. Taciturn Devotee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His father once told him reincarnation belonged to the bored, to the idle. Past lives held no bearings on current ones, and if he wanted to succeed in this life, with cards already stacked against him, he needed to focus his efforts on this. 
> 
> Every memory Dedue got revolved around one figure. A blond prince with a scarred smile, cloaked with blue and fur.
> 
> But with each new memory, a startling fact began to surface. They might’ve enjoyed each other’s company, he might’ve respected (maybe even loved) this man, but the world did not feel the same. He received very few memories swathed in happiness; in fact, it might’ve been very distant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaand look who's back eventually haha. I've been spending some extra time playing the game (through the Black Eagle route actually). I've played through the Blue Lions route entirely, and I've watched my brother play Golden Deer, but I wanted a little more time with the Black Eagles.

Dedue had neither the time nor the patience to investigate into reincarnation. His father once told him reincarnation belonged to the bored, to the idle. Past lives held no bearings on current ones, and if he wanted to succeed in this life, with cards already stacked against him, he needed to focus his efforts on this. 

Every memory Dedue got revolved around one figure. A blond prince with a scarred smile, cloaked with blue and fur. At school once, he tried to look up the details. While nothing  _ exact  _ came up, he caught the name of a kingdom of old: the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Naturally, it dissolved into Fodlan as a whole, but the country intrigued him.

But with each new memory, a startling fact began to surface. They might’ve enjoyed each other’s company, he might’ve respected  _ (maybe even loved)  _ this man, but the world did not feel the same. He received very few memories swathed in happiness; in fact, it might’ve been very distant.

So, he remembered what his father said and pushed any memory to the back of his mind. He wasn’t idle, after all, and he had better things to attend to. 

Sometimes, his mom commented on his pensiveness. She wondered if he wanted more friends, wanted more time outside of the house. While she appreciated his help around the restaurant, she wanted him to experience the most out of life. She couldn’t provide extravagance, but she hoped she could provide opportunities.

Dedue was just content to spend time with his family.

_ (“Dedue, can you help me with this? Please?” At the counter, his little sister clambered onto the seat. Against her chest, she clutched a ripped folder.  _

_ As he took and placed it back on the countertop, he opened it to reveal a crumpled piece of paper. He hummed underneath his breath, a smile starting to play on his face. She always ran around so much, so excited. He was surprised anything made it home unscathed. “And what’s this?” _

_ “It’s a form about past lives!” She pointed at the checklist. All of them came with a yes-or-no bubble, and all of them dealt with symptoms that revealed whether or not you might have a past life. At the bottom, someone typed out a disclaimer. Even if you checked yes, it didn’t guarantee a past life. “It’s for behavior sciences!”  _

_ Dedue didn’t say anything. When she pouted, he smiled. “Okay. Number one: do you get strange dreams?” _

_ “Um…” As his sister launched into a long explanation about her dreams which somehow involved chickens, he mused on his own dreams. Just the night before, he remembered a jail cell and blood staining the walls. He remembered a resolve he couldn’t put a name to, a determination.  _

_ And he remembered, as he woke up, his willingness to die. Who could ever be worth dying for? _

_ Then again, as he stared at his little sister, about to rattle off the next question, he took back the statement. He would gladly die for any member of his family; whoever this blond prince was… He must’ve been family back then.  _

_ Yet, he found himself doubting whether this blond prince meant anything. How could he be family? Dedue bore dark skin and wide shoulders, and the prince had seemed so small, so young. Something bonded them together beyond that. Something connected them, and he might never get the chance to figure it out. _

_ He shook his head, checked no on his sister’s sheet, and proceeded to the next question.) _

Dedue worked hard to balance everything he needed. Even when he set out to make schedules, careful not to overlap any of these events, he kept staring at certain tasks. He fulfilled his volunteer hours in one go; he never understood why some people struggled. Yet, when a flyer appeared on his doorstop offering the opportunity to reinvent Garreg Mach, he found himself asking his parents for their permission.

Upon arrival, a man named Seteth started organizing the teenagers into teams. Some would clear away the rubble, others would touch up the paint job, more still would be able to weed. Even as he waited his turn, people started to speculate on the new project. Evidently, the woman who bought the plot of land could have a variety of motives; people talked about a school, a church, a museum.

When Seteth saw him, he went pale. Before he could pick a group, a small girl (with green hair?) came charging up with a broad smile on her face. She grabbed onto his arm with such vigor she reminded him of his little sister. It was as if she always knew him. The level of familiarity took him aback, but he made care not to let it reflect on his face.

As she dragged him towards the weeds, she started speaking with such an… Antiquated accent. A smile spread across his face as he fell into step with her. Something should have pulled him away from her. Something should have told him it was dangerous to meet her. All of these thoughts raced through the back of his head, but most of his thoughts revolved around how  _ comfortable  _ and  _ cozy  _ her presence was.

Eventually, in the middle of hearing her prattle on about fish in the sea and stars in the sky, a question swam to the surface. He never learned her name, yet he never questioned her calling him Dedue. 

Her name was Flayn.

_ (“I have a question for you, Chef—Er, Dedue!” Flayn stammered as she tugged out another handful of weeds. While he worked without gloves, Seteth insisted she wore them. He couldn’t quite figure out the relationship between the two. He suspected a father-daughter bond, but they also acted like siblings. Whatever they had, it transcended the boundaries of either… Perhaps, in some strange way, they were both. _

_ He took his mind off that path when he realized the implications. “Yes?” _

_ “Do you ever have strange dreams at night?” she asked innocently. She cocked her head as she waited for the answer, her green hair slipping over one shoulder. _

_ As he mused over the question, he tugged off his sister’s hairband and offered it to her. She stared at it for a few seconds, confused. “What do you want me to do with this… Contraption, Dedue?” _

_ Every once and a while, she’d slip up like this. She must be an old soul; she stared at the devices of the modern world like she never saw anything like it before. He gestured for her to come closer. As she sat on her knees in front of him, he started to gather her hair back into a high ponytail. “I heard that question once before?” _

_ “Have you?” She huffed, and one strand of green floated out in front of her. She laughed with delight as it cloaked half of her face, and he opted against gathering it up. “Where?” _

_ “It dealt with reincarnation.” _

_ She stiffened. “Did it now?” _

_ “I wonder if that’s where you got it from as well.” He knew she’d let the subject drop now. In fact, as he carefully helped her out, someone’s eyes started to burn into him. Without even looking, he knew he’d spot Seteth watching him. “Tell me, Flayn, about this scholarship your brother wants me to take.” _

_ “Oh! We implemented such a policy after seeing the hard work of the volunteers! If your help amounts to fifty hours, and you are still in, um, high school? That is what I believe the name to be…?” She ventured a glance at him, and he nodded. “Then you can attend the school for free! Not many people met the requirement, but it would be paid for.” _

_ “A full ride…?” He mused over the words.) _

When he arrived home that night, he found Seteth meeting with his mother in the living room. He paused in the kitchen, debating whether or not to make his presence known. He knew what the outcome of this would be. His mother never wanted to hold him back, and she knew he found great happiness in volunteering.

“Am I attending Garreg Mach in the fall?” he asked as he stepped into the light.

Seteth swiveled around, shock written plainly, but his mom simply smiled. “It’s gonna be a good opportunity.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week marks the beginning of mage week! At some point, before April 24th (hopefully), three new stories will be out about one of the mages from the three houses.


	7. Mystical Songstress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She barely sang three words before the memories washed over her like an ocean. One second, she spun with one leg stretched out, and the next, she drowned. Distantly, she knew she must’ve hit the ground. Distantly, she knew she laid out like she was dying, a hand buried in her tank top. 
> 
> Over her head, the ceiling transformed into a night sky. She felt the heat of a fire traveling up her arm; when she turned her head, she made out the outlines of a campsite. Someone spoke in an accented tone, and something in her whispered Brigid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is probably the first chapter NOT about worldbuilding (or i guess, hubert's didn't have a ton)... but I really appreciate Dorothea because I got to talk about music and dance and after watching dance moms all quarantine, i'm practically an expert (haha that's a lie, i know nothing about dance)

Dorothea grew up in her mother’s dance studio. She grew up with dance embedded in her feet, her legs, music crawling through her body. Everyone remarked how beautiful, how happy she was as a child, and she never disagreed. And while she rarely worked with her mom, people afraid of favoritism, the choreographers became a second family to her.

In a way, she should have known her first memory would come in the middle of a dance. Luckily, though, it came when she practiced by herself. At age seven, in the middle of a turn, she sang the words to herself. That way, she could remember the timing better. After all, timing always went hand in hand with the beats, and she always knew she would need to read music to succeed.

She barely sang three words before the memories washed over her like an ocean. One second, she spun with one leg stretched out, and the next, she drowned. Distantly, she knew she must’ve hit the ground. Distantly, she knew she laid out like she was dying, a hand buried in her tank top. 

Over her head, the ceiling transformed into a night sky. She felt the heat of a fire traveling up her arm; when she turned her head, she made out the outlines of a campsite. Someone spoke in an accented tone, and something in her whispered  _ Brigid.  _

_ “They are saying… Fort Merceus…”  _ Her voice cut in and out like a radio, but her heart clenched in her chest. Whatever this conversation once was, she could feel the grief laying atop her, choking her, strangling her.

When she blinked again, her vision cleared. As she gasped for breath, two names swam to the surface.  _ Caspar. Linhardt.  _ The conclusion settled as she started to get to her feet again. They must’ve been… They… She lost many friends in a past life.

And as she staggered over the phone, turning off the music, another conclusion swam to the surface. If singing triggered these horrible memories, memories of the dead and of grief and of emotions she couldn’t name at age seven, she would  _ never  _ sing.

_ (“We’re duet partners this week!” A redhead bound across the room, practically sliding on the floors, before pulling Dorothea into a hug. _

_ She stiffened before laughing, hugging her back. “Are we?” _

_ “Miss Manuela just told me! I’m Annette, by the way! Annette Domino!” As she stepped back, Annette couldn’t hide the smile on her face. “And the topic is  _ so  _ cool! Have you heard anything about reincarnation? That’s what the theme of the dance is this week, and—” _

_ “Reincarnation?” Dorothea couldn’t help but appreciate the talkative nature of Annette. Hopefully, when Miss Manuela  _ officially  _ announced the theme of the dance, Annette would cover Dorothea’s fear.  _

_ Besides, while she never officially met Annette, she knew her to be a talented dancer. The only critique her mother ever gave her was that Annette bit off more than she could chew. She constantly raced around, accomplishing task after task, and her mother wondered if she ever took a break to eat or sleep.  _

_ She nodded. “Can you imagine how great it’d be to have another life? I never… I’ve never had any flashbacks, but I think about it all the time! Imagine learning you once were a soldier, or a queen, or a mage… Imagine!”  _

_ Dorothea hesitated before nodding. “Magic would be cool to have.” _

_ “Right? But everyone just… Moved past magic! I want to figure out how to cast magic! There’s a science behind it even if people insist there isn’t!” Annette pulled a face as if thinking, and as she flapped her hands, she could tell she wanted to find magic there.) _

From that moment onwards, Annette and Dorothea remained best friends. They complimented each other. Where Annette was silly and carefree, Dorothea remained elegant and refined. And where Annette was studious and serious, Dorothea allowed a certain level of nonchalance into her work. While they might not have been in the same school, Annette returned to the dance studio three times a week.

She remembered holding Annette where her father passed away, trying to keep the redhead from crying. She couldn’t stop sobbing, and her hands kept clawing at her neck where she hung a locket. At some point, Annette broke the clasp, and Dorothea made it her mission to fix it.

And she remembered the look Annette gave her when her mother first confessed she knew how to contact Dorothea’s father. She left the option up to her, and she paced back and forth. Was she content with just having a mother? Did she want more? Did she want to risk someone not wanting her?

_ And something inside her told her to be content with the fact she had any sort of family, but she shoved it down. _

The only thing she ever had of her father was a mixtape he left behind. When she popped into that old walkman, she sat in the audience, waiting, at one of her dance competitions.

The first verse popped into her head unbidden:  _ reach for my hand— _

Dorothea swallowed them down and continued dancing; she didn’t want to know who the song was meant for. She didn’t want to know why she already knew it. This was her life, not her… Her  _ past self  _ died, and she could move past the lingering ghosts.

_ (“Look, I know you expected me back sooner, but I got held up—” His voice cut off when Dorothea looked up, and he offered an awkward laugh. “You are not my friend.” _

_ “I am not,” she agreed. Then, as she pulled the headphones off, something bold stirred within her. He was attractive enough… And he knew it. His red hair was stylishly, deliberately messy, and she never saw something quite that vivid. Even Annette’s hair was more… Orange than red. “But I can be if you want.” _

_ “Is that so?” He took the seat next to her then, a smile starting to form. He hooked his arms behind his head and leant back. “I think I’ve seen you at one of these before… Not onstage this week?” _

_ “I was sick Monday and Tuesday, and I didn’t have time to learn the dance.” She scooted as close as the chairs would let her. As she batted her eyelashes, a smirk started to form on his face. If she needed to describe the mood, she could only think about electricity. Everything,  _ everything,  _ sparked between the two of them. “I’m glad, though, because I wouldn’t have gotten a chance to meet you.” _

_ “You’re awfully forward… I like that in a girl.” He winked and reached across the divide to take her hand. “My name is Sylvain.” _

_ “Dorothea.” _

_ And if Annette couldn’t find Dorothea in the audience later on because she was making out with a stranger, desperate to forget her past life and her current missing father, then nobody had to know.) _

They started dating soon after, and she forced Annette and Sylvain to get to know each other. Unexpectedly, the two of them hit it off immediately. In a way, she wondered if they already met. While neither had any clear memory, both claimed to have at least seen each other… But then again, Sylvain apparently went to most of the dance competitions.

As their junior year of high school approached, they started splitting up more and more. Annette and Sylvain both took jobs near Garreg Mach, and Dorothea did more and more dance competitions. She couldn’t imagine wanting to go near Garreg Mach. As her mother once said, it just gave off bad vibes. 

Of course, when it came down to it, she picked her friends over her doubts.

_ (“They’re offering scholarships! We could all go to Garreg Mach!” Annette sat on Dorothea’s bed, shaking its frame, as she searched things on her laptop. _

_ Sylvain, lying across Dorothea’s lap on her small couch, snorted. “I don’t have the grades for that, Annie.” _

_ “It’s a sweet idea.” She flicked his forehead, and he pouted for a second before breaking into a smile. “Send us the details… We’ll both at least  _ try.  _ Right, Sylvain?” _

_ “Please? You have to!” Annette spun to face them, and she clasped her hands together in a mock plea. “I don’t want to go without you guys! Oh, I know Claude’s trying! You and Claude are friends, aren’t you?” _

_ “Uh… If you call beating his ass on every video game ever a friendship, then yeah.” _

_ “Then, you have to try!”  _

_ Dorothea smiled at both of them. “Annie, I’m sure if you get any say in this, you’re getting both of us into Garreg Mach.”) _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will leave the question up to you guys. I can't guarantee Dorothea/Sylvain will be endgame, but I wonder what ships you guys want to see eventually. Obviously, Dorothea's is a little less about relationships... But Sylvain is a man built on relationships.


	8. Scholar of Misfortune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories may crowd her mind, but she still hadn’t lived enough for one lifetime, much less two. She remembered the death sentence hanging over her head and using magic until she felt as if she’d burst. She remembered dying to an enemy’s arrows on Gronder Field and wondering if it was Ashe (they once somewhat called each other friends). She remembered the way Claude cried out for her, but black and red took over her too fast, too soon.
> 
> What she didn’t remember was the world moving on without her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lysithea's chapter was actually, like, the second one I ever wrote because she's one of the rare cases where she remembers everything... So she could really reveal the differences between modern and the past world.

Luckily, Lysithea died at the tender age of twenty before; she never even grew old enough to consume alcohol. Claude made sure she followed that particular guideline. Whenever she protested any special treatment of her age, he would ruffle her hair and nudge her away… Or, occasionally, he’d point at Cyril (who they somehow managed to convince to become a Golden Deer because the world went to hell). 

Memories may crowd her mind, but she still hadn’t lived enough for one lifetime, much less two. She remembered the death sentence hanging over her head and using magic until she felt as if she’d burst. She remembered dying to an enemy’s arrows on Gronder Field and wondering if it was Ashe (they once somewhat called each other friends). She remembered the way Claude cried out for her, but black and red took over her too fast, too soon.

What she didn’t remember was the world moving on without her.

She barely recognized the state of the world. Sometimes, it felt every step set a fire, tearing down the walls of what she knew… But the fire burnt the very ground she walked on. The only option was to run deeper and deeper, hand braced against the wall burning with flames, until she learned how to live in the ruins… And Lysithea still didn’t know how.

The weapons of the past disappeared into sports, the only way to continue the competitive nature of skirmishes. Her favored professor, Byleth, once wielded a sword given by the Gods for a God; now, kids used it to ‘fence’ for fun. Atop his wyvern, Claude once commanded a mighty army with Faulnaught in his grasp; now, both wyvern flying and archery turned into tournaments. Even magic, while still a prominent weapon in war, retreated to peripherals of society and few possessed it. Faith healing became irrelevant amidst advances in medicine. 

Lysithea liked to gather Miasma into her hands on days she felt like she was burning alive, an orb of crackling black magic, and throw it back and forth like a baseball (another new invention, another way the world left her behind). If she dug her feet into the ground and insisted she belonged in the past… In some ways, she wished death truly had been an endless abyss nobody knew. 

And the technology…

_ (“You remind me of my grandma, Ly.” Caspar rolled his chair across the carpet before going back to spinning in slow circles. He yawned dramatically. “You type  _ so  _ slowly!” _

_ “Then perhaps you should try being patient.” She muttered a wind spell under her breath and sent him toppling backwards. Since he hadn’t seen the spell, Caspar cackled with delight as he hit the ground from an  _ ‘accident.’  _ Nobody really used magic in their day-to-day lives anymore; people used it as much as others use tanks.  _

_ As he righted the chair, he slid right next to her. “Nah. I don’t have time for that!” _

_ “That is…” She growled as she missed another key. Why were keyboards so confusing to use? She missed using quills on parchment…  _ That  _ always made sense. While she enjoyed the practicalness of pencils, she couldn’t get behind typing. When she first started pecking her way through assignments, the teacher forced her into this rudimentary class.  _

_ Then again, she met Caspar here, one of the only people she knew from her past life. _

_ Sometimes, she wanted to drop buzzwords into his lap. She wanted to ask about Fort Merceus; she remembered Claude and Hilda both thought he’d be stationed there. That had to mean he died there as well. Right? If she brought it up, would he remember…? _

_ Then, Lysithea would be a little less alone. _

_ She slammed down on the keys. “Damn it!” _

_ “Whoa! If you get to cuss, I do too!” Caspar cleared his throat. “F—” _

_ “The teacher will be back soon.” Ashe turned from the row in front of them, worrying his lip between his teeth. “Maybe we shouldn’t be…” _

_ “You’re no fun.” _

_ She also met Ashe in this class, but they hadn’t clicked as easily as she did with Caspar. She wondered if something recognized him as her potential killer, and that explained her reticence to meet him…) _

Every teacher complimented her on her wit and her intelligence. Every once and awhile, at those damned parent-teacher conferences, they would bring up the idea of reincarnation. Lysithea pushed away all the implications, and her parents did the same. All her intellect, all her hard work, stemmed from who she was as a person. If she happened to live before, then so be it. 

Still, it didn’t stop her from struggling in this world. They paved the streets with a new kind of stone, and new vehicles darted back and forth. Gone were the days of long horseback rides or carriages. Now, everyone rode in cars… Some even took a bus. The first time she got behind the wheel of a car, she crashed into her garage, and her parents hadn’t let her try again quite yet.

A new kind of magic threaded the sky…  _ Electricity.  _ She marveled at the sparks and the bursts, and she wondered who could have been a genius to replace candles, magic, and any other form of entertainment in one blow. 

But when she found herself in the library, she never sought out answers about the modern world… She sought out the one she used to live in. Maybe yearning drove her to comb through books for any mention of her friends, her family, herself. Or perhaps it was arrogance. She always thought they were creating history; she said that much to Ignatz the day before Gronder Field.

Nothing gave a straightforward answer.

_ (“We’re going to get in so much trouble—” _

_ “I thought you asked your parents! Man up!” Caspar clapped a hand on Ashe’s shoulder as they trudged through the fog. _

_ Lysithea hummed, unable to say anything. Her mouth tasted like blood and dust and mist and death… This was where she fell all those years ago. While they had to hop on a train for five hours to reach her and they came up with a plethora of excuses, she couldn’t regret it. Besides, it wasn’t even illegal. _

_ After all, she was a member of Fodlan… Not the Leicester Alliance anymore.  _

_ Ashe sighed. “I know, but… I don’t know why we’re risking getting in trouble for a little tour…” _

_ “We’re not going on a tour,” Lysithea said at last. Her feet settled in the mud, and she wondered if she could trace the path where she once walked. Then, something stirred deep within her, and she was running, hair thrown out behind her.  _

_ Behind her, her friends made a noise of protest before hurrying along, but she wasn’t there for them anyway. She doesn’t know what she was looking for, but she kept going deeper and deeper into the mist before stopping.  _

_ She closed her eyes, murmured a spell, and lit up the world with lightning. When she opened her eyes again, she spotted an uneven bit of terrain, the grass scrapped away from it to reveal crumpled flowers.  _

_ “Wait, Ly, you know  _ magic?”  _ cried Caspar. _

_ But she skidded to a stop and held up the flower. Crimson. They used to be native to the Adrestian Empire… _

_ They were Edelgard’s favorites.) _

The next month, confined in the basement due to being ‘grounded,’ she flipped through the news channels idly. She still didn’t  _ grasp  _ the mechanics of TV, and she couldn’t work the different inputs for the life of her, but she knew which channels she liked. One played out overdone dramatization of the Fodlan unification every Friday, but they had to exaggerate and improvise most details. Edelgard would’ve laughed to see she was portrayed by a man.

Or cried that her legacy was tarnished.

Something caught her attention though. As she dropped the remote, hand pressed against her mouth, a familiar figure began speaking.  _ “That is why I have officially registered my past life, and I now reopen Garreg Mach—” _

“It’s Rhea,” she murmured to herself.

_ “For all high school students, I implore you—” _

“It’s Rhea.” Lysithea got to her feet and started shouting. “Mom! Dad! I’m switching schools!” __

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So "mage week" might actually just be mage weekend because I felt bad about not updating in awhile. Next one up is Annette, and then please comment on who you want next! They might not come out as often though haha


	9. Bloomed Overachiever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More than anything else, Annette wanted some trigger to reveal she possessed an old soul. While many people refused to admit it, old souls had advantages nobody else could dream of. They remembered a past world where everything, the very foundations of what she knew to be true, changed. They understood math, history, literature in a different way than the new souls could; they had perspective.
> 
> Yet, her parents didn’t share her beliefs. They called reincarnation ‘superstitious’ and doubted whether or not it was truly a thing.
> 
> “Besides,” they told her, “even if it was real, you’re a ‘new soul.’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> annette is a baby like lysithea and i love her!!! also, i finally got to explain how magic works in this world (even though lysithea definitely gave you a bit of a preview), and i think it's all supported considering literally EVERYONE can become a mage if you grind their reason stat.

More than anything else, Annette wanted some trigger to reveal she possessed an old soul. While many people refused to admit it, old souls had advantages nobody else could dream of. They remembered a past world where everything, the very  _ foundations  _ of what she knew to be true, changed. They understood math, history, literature in a different way than the new souls could; they had  _ perspective. _

Yet, her parents didn’t share her beliefs. They called reincarnation ‘superstitious’ and doubted whether or not it was truly a thing. In fact, they made staunch arguments that reincarnation could be proved by simply being a history buff in one subject. No matter what Annette said in a desperate attempt to convince them, they dismissed it. 

“Besides,” they told her, “even if it was real, you’re a ‘new soul.’”

With that, Annette decided she would discover the past by herself. One aspect, always skimmed over in textbooks and slowly fading out of the society she knew now, called out to her.  _ Magic.  _

If magic existed back then, she knew magic must still exist today. Things couldn’t just  _ disappear.  _ Besides, for something which needed to lack a rhyme or a reason, she found reports anyone could learn the very basics. They didn’t need to be proficient, or naturally able, to pull off any of this. 

They just needed to be good at studying. Annette  _ excelled  _ at school. She took all honors, all AP classes from the moment they became available. In fact, she almost skipped a grade before her parents held her back, insisting she didn’t need another reason to be stressed. The good news of getting ahead in school, though, meant she had time to learn magic…

_ (“And why can’t you stay over tonight?” Dorothea asked as her mom drove Annette home from the dance studio. “I’m sure we could convince your pops—” _

_ “I’m feeling a little sick.” A lie. “And I don’t want to get you sick!” A lie. “But I think with a good night of rest, it’ll all clear up.” One last lie. _

_ The other girl looked at her unconvinced. Since they’ve been friends since  _ forever,  _ Dorothea could always read Annette like a book. She squirmed in her seat and glanced out the window, hoping her home would approach soon enough. If she kept pressing, all of her secrets might come spilling out. While they passed a ‘no judgment’ policy on their friendship long ago, she wasn’t sure it would extend to this. _

_ Finally, they pulled into her driveway, and Annette darted out. “Bye! See you soon! Text you soon!” _

_ “Annie—” _

_ But she already bolted away, tearing straight into her backyard. She texted her parents earlier she wanted to check on her ‘science’ experiment in the treehouse the second she got home. The truth wasn’t so cut and dry, but neither of her aging parents would climb the ladder to expose her. Besides, they trusted her, and she wasn’t sure this necessarily betrayed the trust but… _

_ Well, if they hated reincarnation, there was no way they’d like this. _

_ The easiest magic, she recalled as she climbed the ladder, was wind. It was something most rookies could pick up on, and she had been reading all depictions of magic she could find. Ultimately, she resorted to an old poetry book written by that pegasus knight, Ingrid. She wondered about Ingrid a lot… Why was she one of the  _ only  _ sources left from the Unification of Fodlan? _

_ That wasn’t the issue. _

_ As she sat in the treehouse, she tried to channel the feeling Ingrid spoke about—Or, rather, Ingrid transcribed from one of her soldier friends. It felt like a flutter in her heart, a whisper in her ear, a song shaking through her body. _

_ When Annette thrust her hands out in the position which felt natural, she felt something tingle at her fingertips… And then die away.) _

Annette knew, given enough time, she’d figure out magic. She worked from practically nothing; not many people documented the proper way to learn anymore. Evidently, the way to get the military training was to pass a test and then go into specialized training… Specialized meaning top-secret. 

It wouldn’t stop her, though. If magic existed in Fodlan before, eventually she could find an old soul. Every night, she logged onto the registry to keep track of people joining. Most of them were older men and women, confirming their lives and trying to disappear into obscurity. The few who weren’t, the few her age, sought out fame and fortune based on the fame and fortune they had before.

Still, she got closer and closer to results with magic. One day, she got enough to rattle the wind chimes in the window. If she kept trying, kept working hard, she would be able to produce it consistently. She wasn’t sure what she could do with the knowledge, but she knew she  _ needed  _ it.

If anything, she could just have the coolest hobby.

_ (“So what’s this about?” Claude grabbed her notepad and held it over her head, lazily stretching against the wall. She tried to grab at it, but her fingers came up just short. “‘Notes on’ something. You scribbled out a whole lot. Not feeling very confident there, Annie?” _

_ “Claude, give it back!” Rolling back on her heels, she crossed her arms and huffed. She wasn’t going to leap at it like a little kid. That was  _ beneath  _ her.  _

_ Before he could say anything else, a bell jingled overhead. He slid her notebook into his apron, specifically the front pouch where he  _ knew  _ she wouldn’t even attempt to get near, before sauntering to the front with a wink. While he laughed and greeted the customer, she took comfort in the fact his voice always sounded like he sucked on helium when he talked to customers. And he called  _ her  _ a child. _

_ She bounced forward after a few moments, and when she tripped, Claude helped her back up… And she seized the chance by stealing back the notepad. “Sorry about that! Is Claude bothering you?” _

_ “Of course not!” A small, green-haired girl grabbed her phone off the ground. Then, as she glanced back and forth between the duo, she offered a ‘convincing’ smile. “Have either of you considered the school that is Garreg Mach?” _

_ Annette’s eyes widened. The school known to have founded magic? The school where she knew magic must be carved into the walls, into the  _ veins  _ of the school? Not to mention, the school must’ve been very good at gathering old souls. Rumor had it, a lot of old souls appeared near the place they most strongly correlated with their youth. _

_ She nodded eagerly. “Garreg Mach? Oh, I’d love to attend its reopening, but it’s a little prestigious—”  _

_ “There are scholarships!” blurted the girl. _

_ Annette froze, and she felt Claude tense beside her. Then maybe…  _ Both  _ of them really could have a shot at attending!) _

When she opened the letter with Claude, she started crying. They  _ both  _ made it. And then she rushed over to Dorothea’s house, who texted her boyfriend. And Dorothea and Sylvain both made it! And then they all four met up, and she kept crying, and something in her soul started to sing at the idea.

She could go to  _ Garreg Mach.  _

She could relearn magic—Er, learn magic. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there we go! The end of mage weekend! who would you guys like to see next :))


	10. Sleepy Crest Scholar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People should be able to distance themselves enough from their past lives. Appreciate what it was, but accept you cannot change it. In some ways, it was like childhood. If you bullied people in your past, it didn’t dictate you remained a bully today… 
> 
> Or maybe it dealt more with ancestry. While he could regret the position his wealth and his race put him in, he couldn’t feel guilty for the way his ancestors acted. It was regrettable, but it didn’t mean he had something to atone for. He could work for his own future without the burden of the past weighing him down.
> 
> Nonetheless, Linhardt intended to keep his memories, even if he never acted on them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me before the black eagles: linhardt is just kinda a pompous asshole isn't he  
> me after the black eagles: i love linhardt, he might be an asshole, but that's okay :D

If Linhardt could convince his parents, he’d spend all day sleeping. In his sleep, he could investigate, theorize, so much better than if he stayed awake. It posed new solutions, new questions to raise. Analytically, he spent most of his time trying to decipher what his dreams meant.

His parents thought he would become a psychiatrist. After all, he bought numerous books on dream meanings. Then again, his grandparents presumed he’d become a history major. He bought as many resources from the Unification period he could find. He also went on a few hunches when it came to Almyran history—namely, King Khalid. 

The truth of matter existed in the content of his dreams. Every night, he got a new memory. Most of them seemed to track with a certain timeline. When he was younger, he only dreamt of childhood memories. As he grew up, he grew up in his dreams. Now, at age sixteen, he knew he was going to attend Garreg Mach Monastery at, perhaps, the most compelling time.

He remembered hearing a certain three individuals planned to attend—a future king, a future empress, and a future leader. 

He thought he knew the future king in his own day-to-day life… His  _ current, modern  _ life. Back then, he never knew the king. Here, though, they might be childhood friends even if he knew better than to prod.

_ (“Linhardt, before you run off…” Rhea looked up from her laptop.  _

_ He idled in the doorway, glancing over at Dimitri. He shrugged; he must not know what his mom played at. Linhardt wasn’t shocked. While he might value his friendship, he knew it wasn’t a level playing field when it came to intelligence. _

_ Finally, he stepped forward. “Yes?” _

_ “Your parents have been telling me about these… Dreams you’re having. About the old Adrestian Empire?” She bent down. Now, he could meet her eyes easily, but his stomach churned at some hidden implication.  _

_ He was only eleven years old, but he still felt he possessed a wealth of knowledge. Most of the time, he tried to forget them the second he woke up. He didn’t need those mind-numbing lessons—there was a reason he started to sleep through them. He didn’t need to remember a strained relationship with his father… He already replicated it with his real father who disliked  _ his  _ dislike of religion. _

_ At his silence, she launched into a longer speech. “Isn’t it a pain? To have two lives knocking against each other? You’re too young to know them now. Maybe when you’re older… Maybe when you have more resources to prepare yourself, you will be able to truly process. But right now? I hope you’re not too stressed.” _

_ Stressed? _

_ In no way did his two lives cause him any stress. In fact, it started to bring a certain kind of enjoyment he struggled to describe, for most of his time that young was spent with another childhood friend. And while he knew Dimitri since the moment the boy got adopted by Rhea, he wasn’t as cool as Caspar… Whoever that was. _

_ “I wonder if there’s anything I could do for you,” she started. _

_ He snorted. “Nope.” _

_ “What?” _

_ But rather than trying to respond, he ducked around her and rejoined Dimitri. The whole time, her gaze burned into his back, and he knew he’d get another lecture from his parents.) _

Dimitri never really shared his memories, so Linhardt did likewise. He had a sense, anyway, the two of them hadn’t been good friends in the past. After all, what preceded the Unification was a war with almost no detail on it. Still, he couldn’t imagine he’d leave behind the Adrestian Empire which became part of Faerghus… Run by his current ‘best friend.’

Still, he felt a certain kind of obligation to keep an eye on Dimitri. He helped him with school which Linhardt excelled at easily. While his teachers grew frustrated at his lack of efforts, along with their insistence he could go far if he tried, Linhardt insisted on doing the minimal amount of work. Due to the dependence of standardized testings, he always pulled out Bs. He never failed a scantron. 

In the end, they wound up being in the same classes. Linhardt naturally excelled and found himself, reluctantly, in the honors classes. Dimitri always wanted to be in honors classes; he enjoyed being stressed, he supposed. And then, as usual, his mother pulled at the strings to make sure they stayed in the same class.

He recognized Lady Rhea, even before she officially registered herself as an old soul. Yet, religion never played a major part in his past life. While he practiced faith magic and believed in the saints, he never worshipped them. They acted as objects of fascination, and he sought out the truths about the past rather than the faith.

In a way, he sought out the truth now.

_ (“Have you been keeping up with the news?” Rhea asked as Linhardt pulled on his coat and boots, ready to leave.  _

_ Dimitri hesitated on the stairs, and Linhardt shrugged his shoulders. “It’s hard not to. I received my admittance letter to Garreg Mach just the other day. And, of course, your other pet project is being broadcasted across the nation.” _

_ “Your parents and I have spoken about it. They agreed you should take the pills as well. Memories just hold us back. We need to step into the future, bravely, without our past souls dragging us down.” She adopted a tone as if she spoke to the masses. In fact, he wouldn’t be shocked if this piece appeared in her next speech. _

_ After all, she had become a very polarizing character recently. _

_ “These will get rid of your memories.” Lady Rhea displayed the bottle to him. _

_ Linhardt yawned and accepted. “I only get my memories at night. I’ll take them before I go to bed.” _

_ “Oh, you should—” _

_ “I really must be going. My parents expect me home.” He brushed her off, and Dimitri gaped at him. When he tried to rush behind him, perhaps to block him in, Linhardt sidestepped and continued down to his car. Luckily, his parents remained ridiculously wealthy. He never needed to wait for them to pick him up, which meant he determined his arrivals and exits. _

_ And as he pulled out of the driveway, he was careful to avoid Dimitri’s gaze. He didn’t know what Lady Rhea was doing, but she started with Dimitri. That alone could qualify as a decisive step. After all, if Linhardt had to go based on his own assumptions, he would guess Dimitri used to be King Dimitri of Faerghus.  _

_ But if he lined the timelines up right, he still had another five years until he found out the truth about the unification… _

_ So as he drove along, he took a back road until arriving at a park very rarely frequented. Then, he threw the pills away for good.) _

With Garreg Mach reopening, Rhea wouldn’t be able to keep them under lock and key. Perhaps he would steal Dimitri’s pills and dump them into the pond. Or perhaps he’d replace them with a placebo. The merits of never learning your past life dealt with guilt and regret. People should be able to distance themselves enough from their past lives. Appreciate what it was, but accept you cannot change it. In some ways, it was like childhood. If you bullied people in your past, it didn’t dictate you remained a bully today… 

Or maybe it dealt more with ancestry. While he could regret the position his wealth and his race put him in, he couldn’t feel  _ guilty  _ for the way his ancestors acted. He was sure his family used to be bigoted, especially towards the people of Duscur. It was regrettable, but it didn’t mean he had something to atone for. He could work for his own future without the burden of the past weighing him down.

Nonetheless, Linhardt intended to keep his memories, even if he never acted on them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We seem to have hit a trend of people who are actually well-adjusted with their past memories, so go Lysithea and Linhardt! I've decided this'll be 'healer week' so get ready for the next ones! Though it might take a little longer to get Marianne's out because I've never written for her, so I'm going to have to do a little more practice before putting hers out here right away.


	11. Survivor of the Curse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her father, upon realizing she was an old soul, wanted to drag her straight to the registry. Marianne and her mother somehow talked him out of it. With next to no details about the Unification of Fodlan, all eyes would be on her… And Marianne knew she wouldn’t be able to give too many details. 
> 
> She couldn’t yield anything outside what everyone already knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up for mentions of depression, anxiety, and implied mentions of suicide. the world did not treat marianne very well

Marianne may not possess a Crest anymore, but her bad luck continued to follow her around like a plague. It must be a punishment. When it came down to it, she didn’t stick around for the war. She let her fear and her despair rise up and take her whole until it felt as if she only had one choice.

Her father, upon realizing she was an old soul, wanted to drag her straight to the registry. Marianne and her mother somehow talked him out of it. With next to no details about the Unification of Fodlan, all eyes would be on her… And Marianne knew she wouldn’t be able to give too many details. 

She couldn’t yield anything outside what everyone already knew.

Still, they came up with a compromise. Her father got it in his head that  _ eventually,  _ she would be able to register and reveal the truth. When she did, she would publish a book about her experiences and receive royalties beyond their wildest dreams. As she scoured through the old textbooks covering the Unification, she couldn’t find any specific names besides who ended up in charge.

The Church of Seiros stuck around with Faerghus’s watchful eye. The rulers of the united Fodlan were, briefly, a king whose name was lost to history and his queen, Ingrid (and Marianne remembered an Ingrid). Still, when she wrote, her mind didn’t go to the two occasions where she interacted with Ingrid or even Dimitri, who she was sure ruled Fodlan alongside Ingrid. 

She only offered short anecdotes about the ones she called her friends. She didn’t know how they ended; she only knew how they began. So she wrote about their house,  _ the Golden Deer,  _ the ones Claude used to say would rise up and triumph. He used to smile so wide and tell everyone to ‘fear the deer.’

But deer were prey, and they got hunted. 

They all died young; otherwise, their names would be plastered on every page, on every monument. They could’ve changed the world. While Marianne knew she wouldn’t amount to much, if anything she dragged everyone down around her, she was surrounded by stars. From Lysithea, whose power surpassed what anyone could have imagined, to Leonie, who knew how to get ahead, they would’ve changed Fodlan for the better.

_ (Marianne’s favorite pastime was walking around the park. While she couldn’t convince her parents to let her go horseback riding, it was too expensive for them, she still enjoyed being out in nature. She didn’t have many friends, so marvelling at flowers and trees provided a distraction from her everyday life. _

_ Her favorite spot was an old bench, tucked between the thicket of trees and advertising a long-gone political campaign. She liked to sit there and pray to the Goddess. More and more people disbelieved whether or not she existed, and while the Church of Seiros still existed, it didn’t in the same capacity. Attending church, attending the branch of church she remembered, came with jumping through hoops. Most people prayed at their homes these days, and she wondered how that could have happened. How could religion fall out of favor? _

_ One day, as she uttered a prayer under her breath, someone ran past her. Her words trickled to a stop as she stared at them, trying to hide her disbelief. But… While she certainly wouldn’t call them friends, she remembered them from a time long ago. _

_ They must’ve remembered her too because within two minutes, they had turned around and stopped. _

_ “I will be sounding odd, but I have a question to be asking you.” Petra stopped in front of her, twirling the ends of her long braid with a finger. _

_ Marianne stammered out a hello. “Y-yes?” _

_ “Are you Marianne?” Something glittered in the other girl’s eyes, something desperate and uncertain.  _

_ She wondered if she should say no. She wondered if she should throw in the towel right then because they couldn’t be friends. Petra sided with the Empire, and Marianne… Marianne got out of there, she supposed.  _

_ Embarrassingly, she felt tears start to form. “I… I might be…” _

_ “Are you feeling the sorrow of the past? I, too, am regretting the way I, uh… Died…” Petra winced at the last word before moving forward. When Marianne stilled, she gestured at the bench. “May I be sitting?” _

_ “Uh… Sure…” Marianne ducked her head and refused to look at Petra at all.) _

From then on out, Petra made a point to insert herself into Marianne’s life. It started off small enough. Petra insisted on jogging past Marianne’s house and then walking to the park, and then Marianne would sit on the bench while Petra finished up. Afterwards, the two of them would sit in silence until Petra decided to show Marianne something on her phone.

It was a… Strange friendship, but Marianne still enjoyed it. Petra pulled sunshine into her life, little by little, and while Marianne knew she couldn’t let go of the past that easily, watching Petra move on with her life… Maybe it meant Marianne would be able to let go of it too.

One time, though, Petra asked Marianne how she died, and she spiralled. That was the first time she had a panic attack in front of Petra, and she still remembered how the other girl seemed so calm, so collected, as she worked to calm her down. When she finally managed to breathe again, spluttering out apologies between the tears collected on her face, Petra simply smiled and said she had experience with Dorothea (and then immediately regretted exposing Dorothea).

But if Dorothea, one of the most confident people she ever knew, could get as low as Marianne did…

It gave her hope in a sickening way, but when she told Petra she was a bad person for feeling reassured about Dorothea’s troubles, Petra gently reminded her it didn’t make her a bad person to not want to be alone.

Marianne asked Petra where she had been her whole life, and Petra laughed and knocked their shoulders together.

_ (Marianne refused to go to a lot of school events. Yet, when Petra asked her to go to the basketball game, she couldn’t find a reason to say no. She climbed to the back of the bleachers and tried to distract herself with her phone. While, reasonably, nobody watched her, the crowd terrified her. What if they somehow figured her out? What if they knew she never belonged there? She was wasting space on the bleachers and… _

_ And then, she busied herself with social media. In a bout of desperation, she once searched every variation of her friends’ names she could think of. Surprisingly, one of them  _ did  _ yield results. Hilda Goche popped up quickly after typing the first two letters of her last name.  _

_ Now, she watched as Hilda grew closer to Edelgard, and something burned within her. She wanted to be with Hilda again; she wanted Hilda to be the person who talked her off the ledge instead of Petra. She just wanted to be with her best friend again, but now… Now she didn’t even get her.  _

_ And then she felt selfish for not appreciating Petra— _

_ Her phone buzzed with a text, and she read it without comprehending. Then, she hurried out of the gym to meet Petra outside the locker room. As she found her friend, who somehow escaped the team, she beamed. “I have found him!” _

_ “Found who?”  _

_ And then, she followed Petra’s gaze to another familiar face, clad in the basketball jersey of the other team, and she gasped. “Felix?”) _

Suffice to say, Petra always remained bolder than Marianne ever was. When Petra dragged her over to meet Felix, they found yet another person who remembered. She insisted they exchanged numbers right then and there, and Marianne stammered out her number while Felix watched her critically.

She never would have imagined they actually would become friends.

She never would have imagined Felix would join them on the bench. Sometimes, he raced with Petra. Sometimes, they found tree branches and sword fought like old times, and Marianne watched them with something swelling within her. Sometimes, she got to call upon the Goddess to mend their wounds, and it felt  _ right  _ returning to the past. 

One day, her mom commented on how  _ happy  _ she looked lately, and Marianne realized she might be right. 

So when Petra and Felix both decided to apply for Garreg Mach, she  _ knew  _ she needed to try as well. It felt like her dream started to slip between her fingers, and she needed to keep her friends right then. This time, she couldn’t let the fear, the despair swallow her whole again. This time, she’d know the beginnings  _ and  _ ends of her friendship. 

Or, at the very least, she could try. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this definitely isn't my favorite chapter i've ever written because marianne is such a complex character, and i feel like i definitely did NOT have a good grasp on it.


	12. Benevolent Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Church of Seiros accepted reincarnation, but they didn’t agree with the registry. In the same way people inherited wealth, wits, or wellness from their family, they believed reincarnation was a hidden factor. It shouldn’t have to be acknowledged, it shouldn’t help you get ahead. Get ahead by your own means, and if some of that stemmed from past experience, then so be it. The Goddess gave certain souls a chance to walk again for good reason.
> 
> And so, Mercedes never said anything about her own past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and all of the healers are done! And we're (almost) halfway through. I had to add one more student chapter because they're going to be attending as well! As always, if there's anyone you really want to see, make sure you request it in the comments!

Mercedes remembered  _ enough;  _ she remembered the way religion found its way into their lives. Everyone knew they could turn to the Goddess. While she remembered the hardships too (she remembered reaching out for a mom who never came, she remembered being adopted and changed and forced into another position, she remembered a  _ war),  _ she never lost that threadbare hope. Even as others gave up and let life consume them, she could turn her head to the sky and find the reason for being once more.

Her parents worked in the church this time around. In fact, they ‘owned’ the church, as much as anyone could own a place of worship. She grew up around religion, around the Goddess once more, and she threw herself into helping any way she could. Given the time, given the chance, she helped others find their faith or reinterpret it. Mercedes might be a little air-headed, but she wasn’t as naive as people thought. She knew everyone needed the Goddess in a different way, and while she was happy with the silent guiding hand, others needed something  _ more.  _ If they wanted help to find it, she always helped to find it.

The Church of Seiros accepted reincarnation, but they didn’t agree with the registry. In the same way people inherited wealth, wits, or wellness from their family, they believed reincarnation was a hidden factor. It shouldn’t have to be acknowledged, it shouldn’t help you get ahead. Get ahead by your own means, and if some of that stemmed from past experience, then so be it. The Goddess gave certain souls a chance to walk again for good reason.

And so, Mercedes never said anything about her own past.

_ (“Mercedes, would you tell us if you were reincarnated?” her mother asked one day as they sat in the office. Her father perked up from his desk, looking away from the finance reports he needed to slog through. Mercedes never thought about the technical aspects of running a church before. Now, though, she knew she could continue her parents’ lifestyle easily… And happily. _

_ Happiness became Mercedes’ goal at some point. While she thought she possessed enough happiness before, the world did not grant it as easily back then. It had to be won, and it was hard. Happiness came in meals before battles, in baking with her best friend with blood still on their hands, in sitting in comfortable silence at the church. It didn’t possess the same meaning now. _

_ If Mercedes tried to interpret why the Goddess gave her a second chance at life, she would assume She wanted Mercedes to carve a happier path. Mercedes knew, by doing what she wanted even back then, she could bring happiness into more people’s lives as well. She could bring the Goddess to more people. _

_ Her mother reached across the desk and held Mercedes’ hand. “Sweetheart?” _

_ “Oh, sorry.” She offered a sheepish smile. Retreating in her thoughts was an old habit; there was a reason her old classmates always thought her aloof or ditzy. She always wondered if there was something in between—perhaps simply a daydreamer? “I don’t think it would matter one way or another.” _

_ “Aren’t you curious, though?” she asked. _

_ Mercedes shook her head. “That’s all in the past.” _

_ Besides, Mercedes knew she could figure out all of the gaps in her memory. At the moment, though, it came to her unbidden in times of need. When she felt alone, she could remember certain redheads and blondes who never failed to make her smile. When she felt despondent, she remembered how accomplished they felt when they started rebuilding the school. _

_ And, if Mercedes ever prodded at it, she knew she could dredge out how she died because she died young. But, if the Goddess gave her a second chance at life, why should she spend her time ruminating on her death of all things? Death was natural, but life was too, and it was worth so much more.) _

__ She shouldn’t have been surprised when her past came back anyway, though. As she helped her mother decorate the inside of the cathedral, someone swept in. Mercedes felt the air shift and bow as if in respect, in reverence. Before she even turned around, the overwhelming desire to bow her head and speak as a noble invaded her senses. She needed to be prim and proper, but Mercedes couldn’t recall the last time she felt that need.

Evidently, the woman who studied her for only a moment before gesturing at her mother felt the same. “May I speak to you, Miss Martin?”

“Of course, Rhea. I wasn’t expecting you to stop in unexpected.” She gave Mercedes a quick nod, a sign she expected her to finish the decorations, and then she followed Rhea into one of the back rooms.

Mercedes instead found an area where the back rooms could not see in and sat down. With those precise movements, with the ways she continued to look ageless, she imagined Rhea must be an old soul of the same person. While she always knew a Rhea governed one of the smaller churches, Mercedes didn’t think much of it. As one of the few names remaining from the time period, people often named their children after her. Former archbishops received a lot of love considering the Saints were too holy to be touched, and nobody spoke the Goddess’s name aloud.

_ (“May I speak to you, Mercedes?” Rhea asked the fifth day in a row she visited the church. _

_ Both of her parents gestured for her to go, and she smiled before nodding. “Of course, Lady Rhea.” _

_ “I was wondering if you have been following the actions of the church online. Do you know about the future of Garreg Mach Monastery?” she asked. Sitting down on one of the pews, she patted the spot next to her, and Mercedes took the seat without hesitation. _

_ She nodded. “The old Officers’ Academy. I’ve heard you are renovating it for use as a boarding school again.” _

_ “So you are up to date. I was wondering if you intended to apply?” Something shifted on Rhea’s face, but only for a moment. A moment long enough for Mercedes to wonder if the holy woman was keeping secrets even from her parents. “While we cannot make the school a religious one, we will still be offering services in the cathedral due to its proximity.”  _

_ “I’m not sure if I want to spend so much time away from my family.” Because, this lifetime, it was true. While she never clashed with her parents exactly before, her adopted father left a foul taste in her mouth. This lifetime, she fit with her parents easily. While she did not see any traces of them from before, she didn’t mind. As long as they loved her, and she loved them, that was enough. _

_ Her father scoffed. “Mercie, sweetheart, we will visit every month. It’s a great opportunity.” _

_ “Besides,” Rhea started, “you can make a new family there. We are instating the old house system, though obviously, it will no longer be by location. I was wondering if you would do us the honor of leading one.” _

_ “Leading one?” She couldn’t imagine being the leader Dimitri was. And while she never felt the desire to check out the other houses, Edelgard and Claude both commanded a certain level of respect she didn’t. “Which one?” _

_ “The Golden Deer.”) _

That night, Mercedes filled out her application, knowing she already had a guaranteed spot. Yet, when she fell asleep, she dreamt only of what little she knew about Claude. He was always especially fond of Annette, and the two of them came as a package deal after all. 

A great deal of his success stemmed from his mystery, his secrecy. While he would inherit a position of great renown due to his bloodline, people still doubted him. He juggled his responsibilities by maintaining a lighthearted air about him while still caring deeply about all of his deer.

Goddess, she still remembered his little mantra he spread throughout the school. She always remembered more than she thought she did, but the little phrase wiggled into her mind and refused to leave. He was so proud, so happy about coming up with it. And nobody else ever heard it before; no other house in the history of Garreg Mach used it. 

Perhaps she would bring it back, in honor of Claude… And if Claude turned out to be there, she would turn the Golden Deer back to him. She would miss being a Blue Lion after all. Yet…  _ Fear the Deer  _ sang in her mind, and she warmed up to the prospect of being a Golden Deer quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mercedes was a lot of fun to write for! I was trying to match her own thoughts of religion, but a lot of Manuela's thoughts snuck in. Since Mercedes COULD join the Black Eagle, I imagine Mercedes realizes religion is something more fluid than the church allows (or I'm just trying to give justification for the fact she can join the Black Eagles, some of them really shouldn't switch houses haha). 
> 
> Stay safe <3


	13. Noblest of Nobles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The registry terrified him. One of his earliest memories involved his father ushering him to the door, and he craned his neck back to see the sculptures on the roof. While someone once told him a registry existed in Fhirdiad, Enbarr, and Derdriu, he only knew the one in Enbarr—it was the tallest building. It reached to the heavens with gargoyles lining the roof.
> 
> He kept glancing up at the maps, at the history lessons unfolding across the walls. Someone hung up plaques with dates from each time period, representing where the old souls came from… But they also hung up a map of the Adrestian Empire. 
> 
> Then, the door to the back burst open, and his father bustled out. “I did, Ferdie! I am officially registered as the former Duke Aegir!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: child abuse
> 
> originally ferdinand had a lot happier of an origin story... that is not the direction it ended up going in the end because Duke Aegir is confirmed to be a dick and asshole

The registry terrified him. One of his earliest memories involved his father ushering him to the door, and he craned his neck back to see the sculptures on the roof. While someone once told him a registry existed in Fhirdiad, Enbarr, and Derdriu, he only knew the one in Enbarr—it was the tallest building. It reached to the heavens with gargoyles lining the roof.

His father shoved him down in one of the chairs in the waiting room with his phone, making him promise to sit still while he completed his business. After all, he did not have the memory to hire a daycare or a babysitter. He was used to it though; he became his own greatest companion growing up.

As he played on the phone, he kept glancing up at the maps, at the history lessons unfolding across the walls. Someone hung up plaques with dates from each time period, representing where the old souls came from… But they also hung up a map of the Adrestian Empire. 

He pushed to his feet and toddled over, abandoning the phone on the chair (and little did he know, but someone stole it shortly after. He received the scolding of a lifetime for that one). As he traced the lines of the map, he took in every detail, every fact. As he stood on his tiptoes, grateful he had always been a tall kid, he struggled to reach the one region he wanted— _ needed— _ to get at.

Then, the door to the back burst open, and his father bustled out. “I did, Ferdie! I am  _ officially  _ registered as the former Duke Aegir!”

Ferdinand blinked, staring at the Aegir territory. 

His father did not give him time to say anything. Instead, he grabbed his hand and yanked him away from the map. As he struggled to keep pace, his father burst with ideas to get out of poverty. He would write a book, an account, of the time before unification. He would provide information on his only son, the original Ferdinand von Aegir. 

_ (“An old soul? You?” his father scoffed the first time Ferdinand tried to propose the idea. _

_ He nodded and decided to continue pushing through this conversation. While he kept abandoning more and more of these debates with him, Ferdinand knew he was right about this one. “I keep… I see these ghosts.” _

_ “Ghosts? That sounds more of a psychological issue than being reincarnated.” He did not tear his eyes away from his laptop where he vigorously typed into an empty document. Once, his father confided he did not think it needed to be good to get published; it needed to be good to reap more rewards. _

_ Ferdinand shook his head. “No, Father, I… No. It is not some psychological breakdown. It is as if I am reaching, competing, with someone I do not know. But I know I did not invent them—” _

_ “It sounds like you invented them,” he responded. Then, he turned around, grabbed Ferdinand’s shoulders, and forced him to look him in the eye. “I know I named you after my son in a past life, but you are not that Ferdinand von Aegir. I understand why it might confuse you, but you’re different.” _

_ “How do you know?” he asked,  _ begged.

_ His father laughed. “Because it’s obvious. You’re a replacement Ferdinand, not the original.” _

_ “Father—” _

_ “And besides.” He returned to his writing, committing to ignoring Ferdinand (not for the first time), “it wouldn’t pay as well to have someone else from the Unification period. But as the lone person…?”) _

His father’s book became a bestseller within a week of being published. People called it ‘witty and intelligent, revealing details nobody could have foreseen.’ Ferdinand took the book and read passages almost every night before he went to bed. Every time he read from it, something inside him jumped out, angry and indignant. Something told him his father changed the details, rewrote history to make sure he would be portrayed as the good guy.

In his room, as he read, he imagined two figures in particular. While he could not make any features on their face, could not remember their names, they would scoff at each detail. A girl garbed in red, and her retainer in black. They would hate his father; his father would hate them… 

But they were his only friends.

Every time Ferdinand started to make friends in town, his father uprooted them again. And he tried to make sure Ferdinand never made any. He insisted he would give away too much as if their family was full of secrets. But… Ferdinand did not know what they needed to hide so desperately from the rest of the public. 

But he could not have any friends at home.

And he could not give out his cellphone number to text.

And he could not attend a normal school, he was homeschooled.

And he could not go anywhere without his father there with him.

And he could not get his license.

And his life became defined with what he could do, and what he could not. 

_ (“Ferdinand, come here.” _

_ Ferdinand glanced away from his homework. For the past three days, he threw himself into learning the language of Brigid. It resonated in him as the right thing to do, and some of it slid back into place. In his past life, the life he  _ knew  _ must exist despite his father insisting otherwise, he must have known bits and pieces. _

_ Then, he got to his feet. “Yes, Father?” _

_ “I’ve been speaking with a few of my friends online about your certain… Situation. Surely, you’ve been keeping up-to-date with the news about Garreg Mach?” His father closed one of the tabs.  _

_ He nodded. “Yes, Father.” _

_ “Rhea and Seteth, bless their souls, developed something which might help this… Affliction of yours.” He finally found the tab he searched for. As he rotated the computer for Ferdinand to read it, he immediately went white. _

_ He shook his head. “No, we… Father, that would not help!” _

_ “I am your father. I can determine what will help you and what wouldn’t. Besides, they need a few trial patients.” He flicked his mouse over to hit ‘register as trial patient,’ but Ferdinand debated grabbing his arm and yanking it away from the computer. He knew he would be able to win that fight. _

_ Ferdinand kept pleading instead. “Father, please, these memories… They are all I have—” _

_ “You don’t have memories. You have delusions.” And with that, he started filling out the form which would condemn Ferdinand. Those newly developed pills, guaranteed to suppress a past life.) _

That night, Ferdinand snuck downstairs while his father slept. He slipped onto the computer and opened another tab entirely. As he searched for Garreg Mach, he found the application form. There was not much time left to apply; after all, most people got months to figure out what to write. Ferdinand, on the other hand, had to work around his father—he did not want Ferdinand to attend Garreg Mach. It would be too far away from him, and that could not be allowed.

So, in one night, Ferdinand applied for Garreg Mach despite the flaws and typos. He could only hope Garreg Mach would provide the rescue, the escape he needed. He could not stay in this house anymore; it had stopped feeling like a home a long time ago. 

With the light of dawn starting to creep through his window, he bid farewell to the ghosts of his past. The princess in red, the retainer in black. He knew he could not squirm out of this one, and while he did not know much about the pill, he wondered if it would be addictive to some extent… To guarantee he would never get the lone companions of his youth back.

His world ended as the same day it started.

_(Ferdinand did not manage to hide the letter announcing his acceptance, and his father currently tore apart his room looking for any more secrets. He tossed aside his most precious belongings as if they meant nothing. A cup shattered_ _against the wall. His map of the Adrestian Empire laid in ruined strips. His books flew at his head, and Ferdinand barely managed to dodge out of the way._

_ Finally, his father turned. “What’s so great about Garreg Mach? I  _ told  _ you not to apply!” _

_ “I need to… It provided an education homeschooling could not,” he tried. _

_ Wrong answer. Another book at his head. _

_ “Father,  _ please.”

_ With that, his father resumed his pacing. “There has to be a way to convince them you’d be unable to attend… Maybe… I could contact my  _ other  _ friends… That’d force you to stick around. That’d… And those pills arrived today! That should take away this defiant streak.” _

_ Ferdinand paled. “Father—” _

_ “Shut up! You’re taking those damned pills. If I have to shove them your throat, then I will. And I will find a way to keep you from Garreg Mach. One way or another.”)  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah... poor ferdie. anyway, so I think this week will be all the cavaliers (which might be a bit of the stretch but wait until I try and group, like, Ingrid Raphael and Caspar in a group. There really is only one big group left which is archers, so there's that).


	14. The Blade Breaker II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the rest of the world panicked about the ramifications about reincarnation, she watched her family let it slide by. Both of them knew every detail. Yet, neither of them wanted the added bonuses of being reincarnated, and neither of them wanted the fame. As a result, they swept it under the rug and continued with their everyday life.
> 
> The only flaw they saw with this life was the lack of swords.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, not my strongest chapter -- if you can't tell, I'm really confident on my Blue Lions characterization (my first playthrough!!) and weaker on the Golden Deer (who I haven't finished but I've started like five times). Nonetheless, writing Leonie was a blast

Life thrived on change. 

Leonie never understood people who tried to oppose it. Trying to fight was an uphill battle, and at the end of the day, you would get nowhere. She learned how to adapt and thrive no matter the circumstances. She lacked the privilege to settle into her life and keep it the exact same. Every time she thought it started to continue down one path, something knocked it astray.

Life changed, life spiraled, and Leonie began again. She reinvented herself no matter what she needed, but she never stopped giving thanks to her foundations. Every past version of Leonie deserved credit, but she couldn’t expect to remain that way. 

As a child, she failed to grasp that concept. Her family fostered children who needed help because, fundamentally, they wanted to give as many people good starts. Getting ahead early made all the difference. While she might not have had money, she got an abundance of support to buoy herself through life.

Many childhood memories slipped away, but she still remembered her favorite foster brother. Dimitri was the same age as her, but deep bags lined his eyes. He experienced more in those short years of life than she ever had, and she hoped she never would. They played, they roughhoused…

And she got him sent away when he broke her arm.

In some ways, it felt like karma when her parents passed away less than a year after. Thrust into foster care, Leonie pretended she would get a happy ending. She saw too many people go through her own home, though, to think it possible. Still, at the very least, she clung to the hope she might see Dimitri again.

_ (“Do you remember your past life?” A girl came up and sat across from her at the table.  _

_ Leonie startled from where she drew a deer. Every time she attempted something artistic, she remembered a boy with round glasses and a humbling ability. It… Discouraged her as much as it lightened the burden of the world. “What?” _

_ “Do you remember your past life?” she repeated. _

_ While Leonie still was new to the orphanage, she did not remember seeing this face before. In a way, she knew she would’ve. It startled her to see such a passive expression. The girl’s eyes hung on her face like twin moons, reflective and silent, and her lips remained in a tight line. Her hair framed her face, and its dark color shifted from blue to black every time Leonie blinked.  _

_ She tried to stop blinking. “Uh, a little bit. Why?” _

_ “My name’s Byleth. I used to be your professor.” The girl sized her up before nodding. “We were both much older when we met before.” _

_ “When… When did we meet before?” Leonie reached up to twist at her ponytail. _

_ She shrugged. “I don’t know how old I was. I think you were sixteen. I wasn’t that invested; I picked the Blue Lions.” _

_ “And I…” The words came back to her as she spoke, and she startled as the rush of memories hit her. “And I was a Golden Deer.” _

_ “I thought you didn’t remember.” Still, something changed on the girl’s face as she leant back in her chair. While Leonie knew they must be similar ages, she moved with the grace of someone much older than her.  _

_ Her own question finally came to her. “How much do you remember?” _

_ “I never forgot,” Byleth responded.) _

That night, she joined the Eisner family. While they went through the legal process, she knew she wanted to be with them from the very beginning. Even if Leonie only knew snippets of her past life, she knew how much she adored  _ both  _ Eisners—Jeralt especially. Getting a chance to start over with them felt like a miracle.

Leonie would never use the word miracle around her new family though. While she doubted they would say anything, they opposed religion in small ways. They never attended church. When Byleth prayed in their room at night, it felt more like a conversation than anything else… And it always came with the Goddess’ name despite the Church’s insistence nobody should speak her name aloud.

When Leonie tried to confront her on it, Byleth gave the same noncommittal shrug as always.  _ “Sothis never minded it in the past.” _

Not for the first time, Leonie was glad she didn’t have Byleth as her teacher. 

Being around them brought back memories, though, and she longed for some of her old classmates. While none of their names and faces came back together, either she knew one or the other, it didn’t change the fact she knew her memories. She knew the flutter of her heart, the fondness reserved for those she trained alongside. 

_ (“Do you think they remember?” Leonie asked one night at dinner. _

_ Jeralt choked on his beer while Byleth continued to eat her spaghetti, one noodle at a time. As he regained his composure, he nodded at his daughter. “I think we might be a special circumstance, but most people have the same amount of memories as you.” _

_ “Some of them will,” Byleth offered. _

_ Leonie nodded. “Who… Who was all in my class?” _

_ “Too many of you brats,” Jeralt said without hesitation. _

_ Byleth nodded in agreement before holding up ten fingers. With each name, she brought one down. “Dimitri, Claude, Edelgard, Dedue, Hilda, Hubert, Ashe, Lorenz, Dorothea, you…” _

_ “Dimitri?” She bit down on her lip to keep from blurting out her thoughts. The last thing she needed was for them to laugh in her face. _

_ Her sister went back to slurping noodles.  _

_ Jeralt stared at her for a few seconds before turning to Leonie. “Look, kid, there were more of you… Twenty-four if I remember right. And a few others nobody really cared about. Byleth can make you a list.” _

_ “I can’t write—” _

_ “Byleth  _ will  _ make you a list.”)  _

While the rest of the world panicked about the ramifications about reincarnation, she watched her family let it slide by. Both of them knew every detail. Yet, neither of them wanted the added bonuses of being reincarnated, and neither of them wanted the fame. As a result, they swept it under the rug and continued with their everyday life.

The only flaw they saw with this life was the lack of swords. Leonie didn’t even know how to touch that one. Jeralt and Byleth both insisted life meant nothing if you couldn’t walk through it with a sword. As a result, they signed up for fencing classes and bought a few online. Then, they would creep to a park in the dead of the night and practice, and sometimes, Leonie came along. More times than not, though, she stuck to practicing archery inside their apartment… It wasn’t as if they couldn’t cover the holes up with a painting.

Besides, they moved around a lot. To this day, she didn’t grasp the concept of Jeralt’s job. Whenever she started to press on the issue, he’d ruffle her hair until it stuck up in every direction and walk away. He was a ‘mercenary’ still; he insisted he found the closest job to that and then kept traveling around Fodlan. Staying in one place wasn’t his style before, so it wouldn’t be his style now.

If she believed them, she would assume their past lives would never come back to haunt her. However, doubt came in the form of two letters delivered to their apartment’s mailbox. Her father debated ripping them up before they could read them, but Leonie crept out of her bedroom late that night to steal it back.

_ (Garreg Mach Monastery? _

_ She read the name and swept her thumb over the gilded letters. When she closed her eyes and tried to summon the image, all she found was something burning down to the ground. While she knew it sat in ruins in the middle of Fodlan, they must have been working to renovate it… And besides that, they invited Jeralt back to help repair the inaccessible areas of the school. Part of his job entailed construction after all. _

_ Byleth sat down on her bed without a word, reaching out to grab the letter. Leonie shifted to offer her own copy instead, and when she opened it, Byleth laughed for the first time since she knew her. _

_ When Leonie turned, a question on her lips, Byleth flipped the letter around. The text was too small to read. “I’ve been asked to lead the Black Eagles.” _

_ “Oh… Are we… Going to attend?” She didn’t want to bring it up to Jeralt; she didn’t want to upset him. He did attempt to make sure they wouldn’t get the letters, and she didn’t respect his wishes. _

_ Byleth gave her a long look. “I’m going to lead the Black Eagles.” _

_ “I… Don’t know what that means.” _

_ “We’re going.”) _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you soooo much for everyone leaving comments and kudos; it never fails to make my day :) <3


	15. Sincerest of Knights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain snorted at the thought; he’d be a terrible knight. Even if he did have a past life, and he doubted it since he couldn’t remember anything, he wouldn’t have wound up at Garreg Mach. Or, he’d wind up there because his parents held too high of expectations even back then. If he had a past life, he hoped Sylvain of the past was happier than Sylvain of the present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for a bit of a hiatus (!!) but I'm back now! Sylvain, despite being one of my favorite characters in the game, actually threw me for a huge loop. But here you go! Tell me who you'd like to see next!

Sylvain couldn’t remember anything about his past life. Sometimes, though, he wondered if he would if he possessed different parents. As a kid, whenever he brought up having any sort of bad feeling, his parents laughed and called him a ‘miniature hippie.’ After awhile, he knew better than to press. Instead, he followed his gut wherever it wanted to lead him. 

It  _ wanted  _ to lead him away from his parents.

He knew impressing his father would be an impossible feat; he gave up on trying to do that a long time ago. As a kid, he tried everything. When his father spoke of needing to know old territories, Sylvain dug through history books until every place shone in his mind. With a map, he could point at Fraldarius and Gautier and Dominic. When his father talked about disbelieving people’s tales of reincarnation, he sought them out in those same history books until he knew them better than they knew themselves. Or, at least, he knew the historical version of them better than anyone else.

Impressing his mother involved impressing his father. As a result, he gave up on speaking with her. She’d ask, with quiet words and hidden poison, about school and grades. Any time Sylvain answered, it’d come out wrong. An A didn’t mean much if someone else surpassed him. A perfect essay couldn’t exist if it didn’t elevate him in stature in the school. Being one of the best players on the team meant someone else was just as good, and that couldn’t be acceptable. 

The first time Sylvain stole the car to run away was at age thirteen. 

_ (His father’s best friend lived on the opposite side of the country. They united through their shared hatred of a concept—reincarnation. Their friendship depended on the power dynamic between the two. His father, Senator Garcon of the former Galatea territory, rallied against any form of accepting reincarnation. He disbelieved all of it; nobody could claim to have a past life. It was the same as those claiming magic was still commonplace. They were simply delusional. And his best friend, a man named Vives somewhere in the former Adrestian Empire, wasn’t quite on the ballot and spoke with the same bitter conviction.  _

_ One time, they went to the same event, and both dragged their sons. Sylvain knew his father thought he could make good friends with the other boy. His name started with an H and sounded as stuck-up and pretentious as he’d expect. Henry? Horatio?  _

_ The second they arrived, Sylvain remembered. Hubert. Staring at the other boy felt like someone grabbed his spine and attempted to rip it out, and he let out a ragged gasp. As he staggered back, his father’s eyes grew cold. “Sylvain, I hope you don’t intend on embarrassing me. Save your antics at home.” _

_ “I’m waiting in the car,” he mumbled, trying to escape. _

_ His father caught his wrist. “No. You are not. This is your future, and I expect you to take this seriously.” _

_ “I’m… No.” He ripped his wrist free and sprinted out of the building, knowing his father wouldn’t chase him down or call after him. It’d be a bigger scene than letting him escape. And while Sylvain might face a severe punishment at home, and Sylvain certainly wouldn’t be allowed to go out driving for the longest time, it was worth it. That kid… Hubert… He gave off something wrong. Breathing the same air was a threat, burrowing its way into his stomach with spikes on all sides. He still couldn’t breathe. _

_ As he slipped into the passenger seat, Sylvain bent over and tried to steady himself. _

_ Then, he climbed to the driver seat and swiped the spare keys from his father’s bag.) _

The punishment couldn’t deter him from doing it again, and again, and again. Every time, though, he got as far as Garreg Mach. The old school marked the center of the three countries which used to share a continent. He’d stare at the ruins and wonder how people used to attend it as a boarding school. Nobody bothered trying to restore it; it kept ties to the dying Church of Seiros, and nobody grew up to be a knight. 

Sylvain snorted at the thought; he’d be a terrible knight. Even if he did have a past life, and he doubted it since he couldn’t remember anything, he wouldn’t have wound up at Garreg Mach. Or, he’d wind up there because his parents held too high of expectations even back then. If he had a past life, he hoped Sylvain of the past was happier than Sylvain of the present. 

The first time the thought occurred to him, he scolded himself. He couldn’t act like that. His father would  _ know  _ he believed in reincarnation then.

The second time, it comforted him.

Then, in the darkest of nights, when he stared up at the ceiling and wondered why he never started running and never looked back, he would think of past Sylvain. Past Sylvain, while completely imaginary, held all of the best parts of him. He was bold and fearless and talkative, and everything his parents drilled out of him with their sharp words and their harsher punishments, he continued to defy anyway. 

_ (His parents disapproved of the three people he hung out with most. It delighted Sylvain beyond words. Claude, who he met in one of his stuffy honors classes, was clearly Almyran with his dark skin and the trademark braid dangling by his cheeks. Annette believed in magic, and while she did nothing to advertise that,  _ Sylvain did.  _ And they considered Dorothea a slut, so every time he snuck her over, it filled him with a secret thrill she didn’t understand.  _

_ That day, they chose to walk around the market, and Sylvain knew he’d buy something for all three of them. None of them came from particularly well off families, but all of them insisted they didn’t need the ‘charity.’ Sylvain just enjoyed spending his parents’ fortune away until, inevitably, he’d be cut off. _

_ “You don’t have to,” Dorothea murmured, lacing her fingers in his. _

_ He squeezed hers right as Claude began gagging. With his free hand, he flipped him off. “I want to. So, pick out something real nice. I bet Claude and Annette want something stupid… Like that book shop over there or something.” _

_ “That’s a new stall!” Annette protested. She whirled around until she faced Dorothea. “Come with me?” _

_ “Well, with those puppy eyes, how could I say no?” Dorothea let go of Sylvain and followed Annette, laughing at his mock-hurt expression.  _

_ He idled by Claude, and the two of them watched as they spoke with the shop merchant. His friend nudged him until he looked up from his phone. “The new guy on the block kinda looks like you. Do you have a secret relative?” _

_ “‘Course not—” The air flattened in his chest, and he gagged.  _

_ The man looked too big, too tall to be a librarian. Across his face, a scar sat, and Claude murmured something about wanting to know that story. Something buzzed inside Sylvain, something insisting he already knew that story. He tried to steady his breath before Claude could figure it out; his best friend already suspected too much about Sylvain’s life. He donned a nametag proclaiming him as  _ Miklan.

_ “Are you okay?” Claude asked, too softly to be heard. “Do you know him?” _

_ “Uh… ‘Course not.” He fixed a bright smile to his face and sauntered forward.  _

_ He kept up easily. “Are you sure?” _

_ “Yup!” And he would prove it too. When he strutted up, interrupting the conversation, he ignored the way Miklan’s eyes widened, and he asked if the shop  _ (Tomes of Wisdom)  _ was hiring anyone. All of his friends gawked. _

_ Sylvain walked away with a job and a horrible feeling pounding in his head.) _

Bringing up his new job brought one of the fiercest fights yet; his father thought it was a joke. His son didn’t need a job somewhere minimum-wage and ‘hippie.’ Sylvain flashed a smile and proclaimed he already posted on social media (which he hadn’t) his new employment. If he changed now, it would lead to greater trouble.

His father decided to end the argument by forcing him to apply to Garreg Mach. Sylvain’s first application served as a joke. He made up the names on the form, a mix of the first things which popped into his head  _ (Felix Arnault).  _ He bullshitted skills nobody would look for  _ (some kind of magic Annette told him about once by accident, javelin throwing).  _ And he had his father seal it up as a cruel joke. 

It never made it to the mailbox.

And then, his three friends started pressuring him to go to Garreg Mach. 

_ (“My father wants me to go, so I don’t—” _

_ Dorothea made a face. “This is your  _ actual  _ chance to run away.” _

_ It stopped Sylvain in his tracks. Then, he turned around with a smile. “It is, isn’t it?”)  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've fallen in love with the friendship of Annette, Claude, Dorothea, and Sylvain and NOBODY can stop me now.


	16. Stalwart Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Long live the queen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a different chapter. Ingrid focuses a LOT more on her past life than her current life because her current life isn't exactly of note. While all of them are trying to live DESPITE their past, Ingrid has a much harder go of it because she views this as a continuation of her past life. I hope that makes sense

Lady Ingrid Galatea, one of two Blue Lions left standing in this horrid war, died on the same day Emperor Edelgard of the Adrestian Empire fell. 

As Dimitri and the professor mounted the throne, ready to fight the twisted beast the woman had become, Ingrid stumbled over to one of the ruined pillars and tried to catch her breath. Most of the soldiers fell to her lance  _ ( _ Lúin still pulsed in her hands as she thrust and spun it, but it never reacted as badly as Sylvain’s… And that lance resided at the bottom of a lake, tied down with rocks), and she knew better to try and approach the emperor. 

Still, her heart hammered as she took in the scene. Dimitri faced down Edelgard, and the madness still crackled off of him. For a second back when Lord Rodrigue died, she thought she saw a trace of her childhood friend. She clung to the hope,  _ especially  _ after Gronder Field stole friends on every side of the battle. But, Fort Merceus broke him once and for all when both Ashe and Mercedes fell. 

He crumpled under the weight of their deaths, of their ghosts, but she wondered how anyone would be able to remain sane.

“Lady Ingrid,” Seteth murmured, joining her. 

She nodded at him. “How’s Flayn?”

“She… She  _ will  _ be fine.” His voice cracked slightly as he turned to see her. Flayn fell unconscious after casting  _ Fortify,  _ desperate to save a few more lives, desperate to give them a fighting chance against Edelgard. But as the healing light started to fade, she fell to the ground. Seteth caught her and started crying, his sobs echoing off the walls.

She tried to ignore the ragged quality of his voice. “Of course.”

“What comes next, do you think?” 

Hesitating, she let out a long sigh and remembered one of her most recent conversations with the young girl. “You go into hiding with Flayn until she wakes up.”

“For you,” he said instead.

She’d bury her friends and try and find a way to honor them despite all of this. Just outside the palace, Felix laid somewhere on the streets with a bloody smile and an almost silent promise to return to Sylvain. And he wasn’t the only one lying there. Dorothea. Petra. Hubert. But, she knew he didn’t mean that. “The world no longer needs a knight. It needs a queen, and he already…”

Seteth paused. “I never would’ve imagined you wanted that.”

“Who am I to be greedy about my wants? At least I survived.” Beneath the armor, the string she hung the ring on throbbed and burned. 

“Long live the queen,” he said after a second.

“Long live the queen,” she repeated, and Ingrid Galatea died, leaving only Queen Ingrid Blaiddyd.

_ (At age ten, the true depth of her memories hit her. Her childlike brain finally comprehended the puzzle pieces offered to her throughout her entire life, and Ingrid knew she remembered everything. She picked up right where she left off despite the cloudiness of some memories which came with age. _

_ Her parents suspected her to be a soldier in a past life. She loved athletics, and she followed every rule to a T, and they imagined it made enough sense. Her preferred sport would always be horseback riding, but she settled for basketball in her school. And while Ingrid didn’t make many friends because she was too rigid, too formal, too mature, she got a great wealth of respect for her skills there. _

_ Remembering, though, led her to be even more distant. She sat on her bed, trying to sort through what it all meant. In a way, Ingrid felt she wasn’t traumatized enough. She lived through a war. She watched all of her friends die. She ended up assuming the role of the queen when the king started… Well, that remained one of the more complicated matters of the past.  _

_ In this life, her parents fussed over her but left her to her own devices. When she started locking her door at night and typing, trying to get every detail down somewhere she could read it, they said nothing. When she started buying history books, they said nothing. All they did was ask if she wanted a ride to the registry, which Ingrid adamantly refused. She doubted it would bring anything good.) _

“I wonder what would’ve happened if you sided with one of the other house leaders. I wonder if we would’ve ended up here,” she said to Professor— _Archbishop—_ Byleth, leaning over the railing. Her hair hung loosely about her shoulders, and nestled on top of her head, she donned a gold circlet to symbolise her status. She only won the crown in court, and lately, she appeared in court more and more. The weight gave her migraines.

Byleth hummed noncommittally. “The same, maybe.”

“The same? Hardly.” Ingrid traced one of the decorations on the wood before turning back to stare over the kingdom— _ her  _ kingdom. “You turned the tides, Professor.”

“I haven’t been your professor in a long time,” Byleth reminded. She stood back from her; it almost felt as if Ingrid spoke to the open air instead.

Still, she smiled. “And yet, you will always be our professor. I don’t think I could ever get used to calling you something informally… Sylvain would be laughing at the very notion, though. I bet he’d call you Byleth left and right in an attempt to get  _ too  _ familiar.”

“He might. He was the only one who started to call me Byleth.” The woman huffed. “Ashe and Annette were scandalized by the notion.”

“I can picture it. Their faces going so red…” The smile faded fast as she recalled her friends, and she pushed away from the railing. Facing the professor now, she tried to find a way to word her question. “They say you’re a vessel of the Goddess. I don’t pretend I understand that, but Professor… Why…?”

“Why are you the last one standing?” Byleth shrugged. “Sothis doesn’t give me answers like that.”

“It’s unfair. How am I to face the kingdom now?” She gestured at the streets below. They had no idea what might come next. Even as she debated going down the steps and announcing herself to them, she  _ knew  _ better. It’d come with chaos and more fighting, people desperate to get a spot at the helm. After all, Dimitri was king of  _ all  _ of Fodlan…

And now, he passed away from an illness before he turned thirty.

Byleth shrugged again. “You will. You’ve always been strong, Ingrid, and I will be by your side until the last.”

“Is that what you told Claude? Edelgard?” She flinched at her tone and sighed. “That was unfair.”

“Was it?”

“Yes. Still… Out of the three of them, who would’ve imagined you’d stay by my side the longest?” The joke soured as soon as it was said, but Ingrid ignored the pit in her stomach and started to walk back inside. She needed to tend to her husband for what little time they had left. Then, she could start formulating how to rule a kingdom without an heir, without a husband. 

Could she… Let the Blaiddyd bloodline die like that? Could she abdicate in the future, after they set Fodlan on the right path? 

Byleth joined her, falling into step, and she relished in the familiarity of her final friend.

_ (The news of Garreg Mach reached her, and Ingrid didn’t hesitate. While she tried not to live in the past, she  _ did.  _ She lived to the old age of seventy; how does one simply walk away from that? Her parents made no attempt to stop her. _

_ And besides, she needed answers. She needed to face Rhea, face  _ Seteth,  _ and ask what truly happened. She knew Rhea died, or at least, that was what they told the public. But Seteth? If she believed those stories Flayn told her long ago… _

_ Perhaps, they simply stayed young forever.) _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> make sure to suggest who to post next :)


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